


A Divergence in a Timeline

by Vihuri



Series: Ner'zhul/Gul'dan AU [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Developing Friendships, Drama, Fanart, Fluff, Gul'dan is learning to be a part of society, Humour, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, relentless flirting, some angst but no tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vihuri/pseuds/Vihuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different outcome to "Undeniably": In a timeline that evades the Burning Legion's notice, Ner'zhul's and Gul'dan's demons are entirely their own as they navigate their new relationship. Never having known of the fel, Gul'dan is struggling to cope with a life where his limited power means limited security. Ner'zhul is tired of his many duties, desperate for love and freedom and often feeling guilt for his desires. The road to a balanced life is a long one, but at least the journey is lighter with a companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undenied

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn't resist giving a happy (well, it will be) version of Undeniably a go. Feels a bit weird to write an AU fic of my own AU fic, but where can I indulge myself if not in my silly semi-anonymous porn account? Anyway, this is still technically more prime timeline Gul'dan, but I've for a long time liked the idea of him also being an outcast and cheerfully add elements from WoD Gul'dan's story. It's hard to imagine a character like his developing in an accepting, loving environment. (Edit: As of Chronicle 2, main timeline Gul'dan officially has the same background as WoD Gul'dan, so my version isn't as AU as I originally thought...)

The next morning should have been awkward. For some reason that refused to reveal itself to Ner'zhul, yet filled him with a sort of slow and insidious sense of dread, it was as though nothing whatsoever had happened between him and Gul'dan. Talbuk were hunted. Nothing went wrong. The clan gained meat, hides and bones, and there was a celebration afterwards. Ner'zhul had long wanted to believe in Gul'dan's sincerity, but seeing him take part in the meal and speak to his master like nothing had changed, Ner'zhul had to wonder: _Had_ he been so quick to forget everything after the moment had passed? Or had it in fact affected him, but he _was_ this good at hiding it?

Whichever the case, Ner'zhul had to admit to himself that Gul'dan was not being sincere with him. Not wanting to believe that all of his apprentice's reactions and words had been an act, he considered the second possibility. That meant that Ner'zhul had a duty to him, to make things right again. How strange! He had already made the uneasy decision to keep acting as though nothing had happened, but now that he changed his mind, the sense of dread that had plagued him all day eased and let go of him - just his conscience, then? By the time he left the celebration for his hut, he was starting to feel downright hopeful. He would discuss this with Gul'dan, make it clear that they would not have to pretend that they had not done what they did, but also that they could not...

...could not...

In sudden frustration, Ner'zhul dropped his ceremonial daggers in their corner with far less reverence than the family heirlooms deserved. Such noble thoughts he had had in his head, and now the rest of his thoughts decided to disagree with them? The duty he had to his apprentice was not the only one that bound him, but in this moment it absolutely should have been the one that kept him from acting selfishly. He knew Gul'dan was still occasionally troubled. Gul'dan rarely mentioned why, and Ner'zhul rarely knew _when_ ; he often only heard the things Gul'dan had _really_ said afterwards, always freezing in the moment of realisation, and he would wonder how the chieftain and supposedly wisest shaman of the mighty Shadowmoon clan could so consistently be so blind to the troubles of his own apprentice.

Gul'dan, for his part, seemed very skilled in reading other orcs. Yet another necessity when one had to survive without physical strength, no doubt. If only Ner'zhul could help him with his other problems, he would one day become a fine chieftain who knew his people - better than many of them knew themselves, most likely.

A very dangerous tool in the wrong hands, that. Gul'dan would have a heavy burden of responsibility on his shoulders. For a moment, Ner'zhul was not sure how he was going to teach these things to Gul'dan when he himself had so much trouble resisting a simple temptation.

And now he was back to endlessly berating himself for giving in to said temptation last night. With a sigh, Ner'zhul closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if to scrub away the inappropriate thoughts.

”What is it, master? Are you unwell?”

Surprised that he had not jumped at this interruption of his thoughts, Ner'zhul blinked at his hand, his mind reaching for something, anything to say. ”I'm just tired.”

If the day so far had been perfectly pleasant and normal-seeming, now a very obvious shade of awkwardness hung on its remains. Even Gul'dan, always quick with words, seemed to be holding his breath. ”Well,” Ner'zhul muttered painfully, turning to face his apprentice, ”I _meant_ to bring it up somehow, but certainly not like that.”

”I see.” Gul'dan was holding a flask that Ner'zhul had forgotten to take with him. So that's why he was here. ”For a moment I thought you were perhaps asking...”

Ner'zhul almost cringed at his own clumsiness. Perhaps he had wanted to, and his tongue had then betrayed him. If that was the case, the years alone had certainly robbed him of the smoothness of his youth. ”That would have been the wrong way.”

Gul'dan nodded, for once not to agree with his master's words, but to simply acknowledge them. He glanced at the flask in his hand and went to put it away. Ner'zhul waited as Gul'dan considered his next words carefully, and was quite unprepared for how straightforward they were.

”You _do_ regret it, then?”

”I did not say that,” Ner'zhul replied too quickly.

Gul'dan turned to look at him. ”Then you think you _should_ regret it?”

A dangerous weapon, that ability of Gul'dan's. It had been a while since a few words had been capable of causing Ner'zhul so much pain. He shook his head merely to clear it, not even hoping that Gul'dan might take it as denial of his observation. ”I should have been in control of myself, instead of... instead of using you the way I did.”

Something flashed in Gul'dan's eyes, but he managed to remain cool. ”It is the chieftain's right to use his subjects as he sees fit.”

Had last night's intimacy finally managed to break down one of those walls Gul'dan had raised around himself? It had been years since the last time Ner'zhul had heard him say something like this so openly, and he was honestly a bit taken aback by the frankness alone. ”Actually, most clans agree that the chieftain's most sacred duty is to put his clan's well-being ahead of his own desires.” His voice was calm, but he was sure that Gul'dan could see the unease in his eyes. Most clans. What Gul'dan spoke of was not the way of the Shadowmoon. Where, then...

”Gul'dan,” Ner'zhul said, his voice a touch less steady now, ”you call me 'master' because you are my apprentice, not because you are my property.”

The orcs stared at each other awhile. Ner'zhul felt like a complete hypocrite; hadn't he just last night agonised over wanting to keep Gul'dan to himself because he made Ner'zhul feel so good about himself? At least he had the decency to feel ashamed because of his selfishness, but he was definitely not completely honourable with his apprentice.

”Well, then,” Gul'dan finally said, perhaps a little unsettled by Ner'zhul's words, ”you might say that I used you too; I knew you still miss your mate, yet I insisted...”

”You spoke of wishing to serve me,” Ner'zhul interrupted.

A fraction of that impatience Gul'dan had shown last night finally got through in the wave of his arm. ”Master, I also wished for you to finally bend me over and _rut_ me. I say finally, because I've wished it for a long time now; and instead I was on my back, but I'm glad I was because I liked watching you, and I would do all of it again if you just asked me.”

Ner'zhul had to consciously stop his eyebrows from shooting up at this outburst, but he knew his surprise was written all over his face anyway. He cleared his throat, trying to think of something profound and reassuring to say. ”...well, I would have liked to watch you, too.”

”Ah.” Gul'dan finally looked at least a little bit as uncomfortable as Ner'zhul felt. ”I still don't know why I...”

Overwhelmed without warning by that fondness he sometimes felt for his apprentice, Ner'zhul couldn't help but smile. ”I've never seen anyone come without using hands the way you did. I wish I could have actually seen you do it.”

Gul'dan's eyes sparkled at this praise, discomfort immediately buried and forgotten. ”Would you say it is a rare gift, then, master? I wonder if I can do it every time...”

” _You_ are a rare gift, apprentice,” Ner'zhul said before he could stop himself. And then, since he had already completely destroyed his chances of continuing their more serious conversation: ”Now go rest. You must still be sore. I am sorry for that; I meant to be much gentler than that.”

”I do know some healing spells,” Gul'dan grunted, but his mood was much brighter. ”But I _am_ a little sore.” He shrugged. ”It was worth it.”

”Good,” said Ner'zhul, finding himself a little too pleased with himself. ”I really am tired tonight, though. We'll speak tomorrow.” He looked into Gul'dan's eyes and something in there broke the last of his resolve. ”Use your healing spells if you need to.”

Gul'dan nodded slowly, a knowing gleam in his gaze. He was back to his patient self, satisfied with the promise of the one thing that Ner'zhul had seen make him impatient. ”Sleep well, master,” he said with a bow, and left for his own hut.

”You too, apprentice,” Ner'zhul murmured long after Gul'dan had left. He found himself still a bit dazed by the sudden turn in their conversation, and quite a bit more than astonished at his own actions. So he had gone and made a promise. So much for trying to be noble and selfless about this. And there was very little hope for that happening at a later time, really, as Ner'zhul was already beginning to regret sending Gul'dan off for the night. He didn't think he could fight off the little thrill he got from this much longer, and for the first time since her death, he almost hoped Rulkan wouldn't choose tonight to visit his dreams. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to her when she did.

 


	2. These Thoughts Always Come at Night

In the world of the orcs, there was nothing unusual about being abandoned. Even the relatively gentle Frostwolves, who allowed their weak newborns to live, sent the ones who remained weak to adulthood out into the wilderness to either become stronger or to die - virtually always to die. Such was this world, and many other clans' customs were far more brutal than those of the Frostwolves. Weakness brought shame not only to its bearer, but also to their entire clan. Solitude was the punishment for such a crime, a death sentence in all but name.

There were so many ways to be weak. Gul'dan was guilty of many of them. Although not sickly, his body was in many ways softer and lesser than acceptable: he was shorter than most, weaker than most, less charismatic than most, and he utterly lacked a warrior or shaman's confident charm. His magic was cold and barren. He dreamed too often of unreachable things beyond his orkish life in a way that was of no benefit to the clan. His only strength was in his tongue that had learned to be manipulative early in life, buying him more time again and again. A day at a time, an hour at a time. He was still young, however, and the weight of his words was still so light. Eventually his people began to suspect that there was no use whatsoever for Gul'dan, and that crime was an even more terrible one than physical weakness.

And so there came a day when they weighed his value as well and found it light indeed.

There were so many ways to be abandoned. Peers could turn their backs on you. Revered adults could judge your worth insufficient. Parents could...

...but that Gul'dan pushed out of his mind in the wilderness, for the thought did not help him survive the solitude. As with his clan, here too he ate alone - weak prey, too old, too young. In the wilds, no one saw his lack of honour. It consoled him at night when he still needed comfort, and finally there came a night when he could dream again.

For years, magic had been the only light to him in the dark, the only thing that raised him above unforgivable weakness in his clan, and always it had been shadowed by his thirst for power. He had grown to find more satisfaction in destruction than in growth, and the clan's shaman had refused to continue training him. He had had to learn alone among his people then, and he had had to continue learning alone in both body and spirit later.

 _What is wrong,_ he had often thought, _with the will to destroy? When members of competing clans meet in the wilds, they slay each other. An orc has no greater honour than to sire strong sons and die in battle, and then watch from beyond as his sons and their sons die in battle in their turn. Where there is peace, an orc fights his own. What is wrong about what I do?_

Gul'dan knew very well what he had done wrong in the eyes of the clan. He did nothing for honour, his clan's or even his own. He had lived for himself alone. He had not even shown interest in siring strong sons, even at the age when most other young orcs started to think about taking mates as they came of age. Of course, such things were not so uncommon among shamans, and Gul'dan would have had perfectly understandable difficulties finding a mate due to the deficiencies of his body, had he desired such things. His lack of desire for such things in itself had not been the problem. It was that others had seen it as yet another symptom, one among too many, of his complete indifference to life. What kind of shaman sneered at life itself? What kind of orc sneered at its eternal circle in the continuity of the clan?

So he had grown, wrong in both body and spirit, and he had not even had the sense to be ashamed of himself. As a very young orc, he had not been skilled enough to hide the deficiencies of his spirit, but in the wilderness he had been forced to learn. The spirits of this world did not aid those they deemed honourless, and as the shadows in Gul'dan's heart had grown deeper and darker, he had finally learned to see the world through them with a new clarity. He had realised that the spirits of this world were foolish, and that it was easy to deceive them with plausible words and sincere gazes and correct rituals. In the desolation of the wilderness, Gul'dan had finally learned to crawl with his body and to despise with his heart, and every scrap of power he had gained in return he had nurtured in secret as though it were the last drop of his life's blood.

But he had still been weak in both body and spirit, and he had come close to falling. He had not known what to think of the hunters that had found him in this state, too starved and slow to hide in time; he had been caught in enemy territory, yet he was allowed to live, and he had been brought to their clan for food and water. At the time he had wondered if it was their form of weakness.

And then their chieftain had come to speak to him. Had seen potential in his unrefined rituals. Had seen trustworthiness in his false respect. Had seen none of the poison in his heart, stoppered by the honey on his tongue. Definitely weakness.

But... as Gul'dan was allowed to stay in the Shadowmoon clan, he had felt some of the shadows' weight lift from his heart. It had been very gradual, but even the most grudgingly given tolerance was more than what he had ever had, and any act of open kindness despite his faults had slowly built something within him. Most of these acts of kindness had come from the chieftain himself, the Elder Shaman Ner'zhul, who had taken Gul'dan under his wing and begun to train him in shamanism. Gul'dan had come to respect Ner'zhul's power, and although he struggled to understand the side of it that had to do with being loved and respected by all, he had quickly realised one thing.

Ner'zhul understood little of the nature of the darkness that stained Gul'dan. Like most orcs Gul'dan had met, Ner'zhul had never had to hide his true heart for fear of being cast out by both seen and unseen world. When Gul'dan had let Ner'zhul see glimpses of himself, he had seen that these revelations to his nature hurt his master; Ner'zhul was not very good at all at hiding his pain. This too was a scrap of power over someone else that a slightly younger Gul'dan would have relished, crawling with his body, despising with his heart.

But Ner'zhul had made life take root in Gul'dan's heart again, and his pain had become Gul'dan's pain. There had been walls around Gul'dan before, old but strong; and for the first time in his life, he had built new ones not to protect himself from others, but to protect someone else from him. He had crawled with his body, yearned with his heart, his desire a confusing mess of the more innocent selfishness of youth that he had not known he still possessed, and a more consuming kind of selfishness that Ner'zhul now clearly accused himself of, yet knew nothing of.

Gul'dan was still young, but he was grown now. The innocence of his youth was long spent, replaced by a surprisingly comfortable knowledge of his place in this new life. As his anger and bitterness had grown weaker, they had been more and more easily driven into the shadows by the light that was Ner'zhul's presence. With his heart feeling lighter than ever, eventually Gul'dan too had taken an interest in the physical side of life. The thing he desired produced no more children than his previous indifference, but he now knew enough to understand what the shamans of his old clan had meant by everyone doing their part in the survival of the clan. Everyone contributed in some way. Those who had no children of their own still helped to ensure the survival of others'. Of course, Gul'dan had still been rejected for the other ways he had been different, but even though he would never forgive his old clan for it, he was never so proud that he would refuse useful information where he could find it. He now did his part in the survival of the Shadowmoon clan.

Perhaps one day he would even be ready to start contributing to the happiness of clan members other than Ner'zhul. Not now. Not in a long while, probably. But some day.

Or at least that had been what he had still thought two days ago, before he had finally seen his opportunity and gone for it. He had never seen Ner'zhul's widowerhood as a concern - after all, he had never met Rulkan and if she had been dead for such a long time, wasn't it finally Gul'dan's turn to take Ner'zhul for himself? Gul'dan knew that way of thinking was something he should never share with anyone, but he had been perfectly fine with acting on the sentiment. He had been confident that he would be able to please Ner'zhul, and that they would finally be able to be together as more than just master and apprentice.

He had at least been right about the first part.

It made Gul'dan uneasy to think how badly he had miscalculated the way someone like Ner'zhul would think and feel about these things, but not as uneasy as it made him to realise how badly he had known himself in this matter. He had not at all expected not even being able to look his master in the eye. It had to be the loss of control in the moment of climax, he thought. He had not realised how accustomed he had become to being in control of his own life and self, how vulnerable to anything that threatened to take that control from him. It was a loss of power, and he still guarded every scrap with fear.

The following morning, when Ner'zhul's seeming indifference had forced Gul'dan to respond with that of his own, he had realised the most frightening thing. Ner'zhul held a great deal of power over him. Not only the power of a master over his apprentice, easily dealt with by simply ending the apprenticeship; Ner'zhul held power over his heart, and Gul'dan himself had eagerly volunteered it to him. Freely given it to a man who now had not only the power to send Gul'dan away, but also to crush his weakened heart.

Although he did not feel like one at the moment, Gul'dan was an intelligent orc, and logically he knew that Ner'zhul was extremely unlikely to do something so cold on purpose. He also knew that his second fear could come about entirely unintentionally and with deep sorrow on Ner'zhul's part if he knew of it. And yet as Gul'dan lay awake in his hut and thought back to their last conversation, he couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't been too insolent with his master after all, speaking so openly, and whether trouble would come of it...

Gul'dan groaned, futilely waiting for the sun to rise out of old instinct. He would have to bring it up somehow with Ner'zhul, he knew. He just hoped at least his master had spent his time alone concentrating on the more pleasant outcome of their conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to scrap my Gul'dan genfic and incorporate it into this chapter. Seemed to go very well with his thoughts here.


	3. A Loss of Power

Ner'zhul directed the younger shamans as they milled various herbs and plants native to Shadowmoon Valley. The more experienced shamans would then make paints with the spirits' blessings and venture out to repaint sacred runes on the valley's various stone circles and wards maintained by the clan. This year there were three young ones who would make their first such journey, following the elders. All of them hoped to be chosen to be guided by Ner'zhul himself, or at least so the other elders said; despite Ner'zhul's kindness and patience, the young ones would never be so bold as to actually ask.

Ner'zhul rubbed the side of his mouth to suppress a smile. Gul'dan had asked. He had not come right out with it, of course, but he had his ways of making his desires very well known without being too direct about it. Afterwards the blind elder, Uldakor, had claimed that even he had been able to see how proudly their new initiate had swaggered in Ner'zhul's wake to the Shadowmoon Fortress. No one else had been quite so blunt about it, but it was clear that this sort of behaviour was widely agreed to be a bit on the improper side. Ner'zhul had merely found it amusing.

As for Gul'dan, he had quickly perceived the public opinion and adjusted his behaviour accordingly; he had made some choice allusions to his shameful origins in some backwater clan that barely even attended Kosh'harg, and the other elders had nodded understandingly and made a point of gently directing the poor savage soul in civilised discourse. Ner'zhul knew that it had all been skin deep with Gul'dan. The younger orc had learned to say all the right things to all the right people, but there were times when he could be quite shameless about asking things of his master in particular.

Ner'zhul had to stop thinking of the last such occasion lest he have to hide a bit more than a smile from the other shamans.

”All done,” said one of the young ones, putting down her pestle and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

The others nodded, eyeing their work as much to make sure the quality was acceptable as to take some badly hidden satisfaction in a job well done. The elders ignored it for once, nodded approvingly and took the young shamans' place, letting them watch and learn the paint-making ritual. It took a relatively short time compared to the milling. Once again, Ner'zhul felt like smiling; the paints were left to the elders because it was a more spiritual process, but he was sure that none of them were sorry that they did not have to spend hours grinding plants into a fine paste. No wonder the young ones were sweating.

By the time the paint had almost finished cooling from the spells cast on it, Gul'dan had finished his task of blessing the ritual garments for the sacred journey. There were countless rules for countless rituals across all the orc clans, and the Shadowmoon clan with its deeply spiritual traditions was particularly far from an exception. There were certain things one should wear for an important task such as this, and there were certain rituals to be performed on them before that could happen. As the future successor to Ner'zhul's position, Gul'dan was experienced and skilled enough to take care of that. He was surprisingly solemn today, though, instead of happily soaking wordless praise from his elders as usual, but his skill was there for everyone to see. As so often these days, Ner'zhul felt as though _he_ should be the one walking with a proud swagger, being blessed with such a capable apprentice. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to help himself while still in sight of the other elders, and the whole clan would have something to be scandalised about for a good while.

The shamans dressed themselves in the ritual gear - at least there wasn't a particular ceremony for that, too - and prepared to leave. This year Ner'zhul and Gul'dan made their way to the Burial Fields, only a short journey and clearly visible from Shaz'gul, but with far more to do than in many of the other sacred sites that needed maintenance. It gave Ner'zhul some consolation that none of the young shamans were experienced enough to follow him today, as it would have been difficult to refuse them and he really wanted to spend some time discussing things with Gul'dan before nightfall and his... well, the promise he had made. And would honour.

Gladly, it had to be admitted.

Talking about such intimate matters was impossible in the Fields themselves with the spirits of the ancestors requiring attention; particularly Mother Om'ra, a previous chieftain, would be waiting for visitors and news of her descendants this time of the year. Ner'zhul eyed the Burial Fields below in the valley. The journey was not long, but it still took some time. He accepted the staff Gul'dan offered to him, nodded at the rest of the shamans that would take part in this duty, and turned to leave with his loyal apprentice right beside him rather than behind like some sort of initi...

...actually, today Gul'dan _was_ a step behind him. There was no need for him to do that in his position, and Ner'zhul wondered if he was simply deep in thought today. By the time they had made their way down to the valley, it was clear that this was intentional on Gul'dan's part. Ner'zhul gave him a curious glance, and Gul'dan picked up his pace with a look of mild discomfort.

”Is something wrong, Gul'dan?”

Gul'dan opened his mouth, and for once only silence came out. He grimaced at it, visibly gathering courage. ”I thought of things at night,” he finally said.

Well, that was something he indeed did. While Ner'zhul usually found peace and solutions to daily problems in his sleep - perhaps a little less now that he wasn't sure what to say to Rulkan - he knew that Gul'dan sometimes lost sleep over things that any other parties involved already considered settled. Ner'zhul had certainly noted Gul'dan's need for approval, sometimes actually wondering how much praise Gul'dan needed before it left a stronger imprint than the negative things in his life.

”If you are still angry with me, I...” Ner'zhul let his sentence trail away, confused.

”Master,” Gul'dan said quietly. His mask slipped and something upset and regretful peeked out through the gaps. He looked lost in a way he had not looked in years. ”Forgive me, master, please.”

After all the time he had spent admiring Gul'dan's subtle defiance today, this made Ner'zhul's eyebrows rise. ”For what? What is there to forgive?” he managed to ask. Just what had Gul'dan been thinking this time?

”Yesterday I spoke my mind, and out of turn at that. Just because of what we did, I thought I could forget who I am.” Gul'dan could not look Ner'zhul in the eye, and his voice dropped to a whisper. ”You can send me away. It's in your power. For any reason. One word. I'll have no say in it.”

While Ner'zhul was utterly stunned that this was the outcome of a discussion that he had thought had ended on a good note, he found it infinitely worse that Gul'dan could even believe such a thing of him. He then recalled the things his apprentice had said and once again felt slow in comparison, frozen in yet another moment of shocked realisation. He glanced at the Burial Fields before them. The way there was not long enough. He stopped walking, put down his staff, and turned to face Gul'dan.

 


	4. Closer

The wind in the valley, though warm and bringing with it the scents of the coming spring, felt slightly intrusive as it came to see the two orcs who had interrupted their journey to their sacred fields to sit on some rocks by the taller cliffs. Ner'zhul whispered to the wind kindly, and it departed with a gentle understanding. The shaman then lowered his gaze back to his apprentice who sat hunched in a strained silence, elbows digging into his knees. Ner'zhul touched his back as gently as he could, but Gul'dan's muscles tensed up anyway.

”I don't suppose we could just...” Gul'dan spoke quietly, trying to relax into the touch, ”...forget I said any of that?”

Ner'zhul was not sure if he was doing more harm than good with his unannounced closeness, so he stroked Gul'dan's back a few times comfortingly before pulling his hand to himself. ”I suppose we could try,” he said. ”And leave it to fester until the next time you can no longer hold it in.” He noted the pained look in the eye that was visible to him of Gul'dan from where he was sitting. ”I'm not telling you to explain yourself to me or anything of that sort. I merely hope you could share your burden with me. Not right now, if you don't want to. But some day.”

Gul'dan's eyes scanned the trees ahead as though expecting to see another element come forth to inspect this spectacle any minute now. ”It is not my duty to add to your troubles, master. Quite the opposite, actually.”

”Well, I disagree, apprentice.” Ner'zhul looked over his surroundings as well. They were unlikely to encounter anyone else here, but the elements _could_ be a little curious, especially when an important ritual had clearly been delayed. He intended to send any other spectators off as well. ”My masters always took an interest in the well-being of their pupils, and I am not going to bring shame to their memory.”

Gul'dan said nothing in a long while, and once again Ner'zhul had to wonder how he had come to be so guarded. After years of knowing each other and working together, they had now been as close to each other as they possibly could without their actual spirits touching, and still it seemed that Gul'dan could not quite bring himself to trust Ner'zhul with his troubles. A moment later, Ner'zhul's years of experience as a shaman harshly reminded him that it was not his place to demand trust from anyone, not even his apprentice. Ner'zhul bowed his head and quietly chided himself for his impatience. He had been slipping, lately...

As though sensing his master's frustrations, Gul'dan licked his lips nervously in preparation for words that still took their time coming out. ”I do not wish to disappoint you, master.” He glanced down at his hands. ”You must understand that there is nothing I fear as much as being a disappointment to you. That I am of no use to you. And still I could not stop myself from saying what I said.”

Ner'zhul frowned. ”You said nothing wrong. How have you disappointed me?” He thought back to their discussion again and paused. ”...well, I did disagree with you that a chieftain is allowed to do as he wishes with his subjects, but I thought your words came from pain, and that I had reminded you of something...”

”I said it to anger you,” Gul'dan interrupted, as though he had decided that he might as well be this insolent since he had already made this one terrible enough mistake earlier. ”I said it to anger you, so that you would show some sign of...” He fumbled for words that would say what he wanted to say but not reveal too much. ”I suppose I felt as though your calmness was... indifference, rather than...” He straightened his back in frustration and took a deep breath. ”Well, it would seem that I still lack your control over yourself, my master.”

”You _are_ still young.”

Gul'dan's fingers dug into his knees. ”I knew it would hurt you, but I still said it.”

”People do things like that in a moment of anger, Gul'dan. Some are better at restraining themselves than others, but it is a mistake most people make,” Ner'zhul said, realising that he was still exhibiting the same calmness that had previously annoyed Gul'dan. ”Besides, I am not hurt because I have been... insulted, or anything of the sort, when you say things like that. It hurts me to imagine what you must have gone through to think the things you do.” Ner'zhul's mask of serenity cracked - for it _was_ a mask now, rather than his usually calm nature - and emotion that was not appropriate for one of his standing seeped into his voice. ”I do not think you quite understand how much it hurts me. Or how much it _angers_ me that there are people who have mistreated you so.”

Gul'dan, normally so skilled at hiding his true feelings if not at changing them, looked almost frightened as he turned his face to Ner'zhul. Before the older shaman even had the chance to worry about it, Gul'dan gave him a nervous and perfectly unguarded smile. ”I didn't think it was possible to feel happiness so great that it causes pain, master.” He still had to look away in the moment of vulnerability. ”You are the only one who would say something like that to me.”

Ner'zhul put his hand on Gul'dan's back again. This time the touch brought Gul'dan's eyes back on him. ”Others would feel the same if they knew you as I do.”

For a moment it looked as though Gul'dan was going to openly disagree with his master on this. Then, finally able to bring himself to allow positive certainties to overpower negative possibilities, he smiled again and the doubt in his eyes softened. ”They will never know me quite as you do, though.”

Ner'zhul considered this. Considered all the thoughts that had gone through his mind these last two days unimpeded, all the thoughts he had suppressed for these last few years. Gul'dan had been very honest with him today. Ner'zhul owed it to him to be honest in return. ”Come to think of it... I don't know if any of them feel quite the same for you as I do, either.”

 


	5. The Hidden Heart

From the corner of his eye, Ner'zhul saw that Gul'dan was looking at him again. He looked back again. Smiled back at him again. Felt infinitely better about today, again. Mindful of the fact that they were currently in ritual gear, on their way to a sacred place, Ner'zhul only touched Gul'dan's shoulder and was glad that it was clothed as the thought of testing his self-control right now made him doubt himself a little.

There had been nothing to test a while earlier - indeed, Ner'zhul would have been disgusted with himself if he had been capable of being aroused by Gul'dan's body against him _then_. There had been something desperate in the way Gul'dan had clung to him, his heartbeat too fast and heavy against Ner'zhul's arms as he had returned the embrace.

”You could have told me,” Ner'zhul had whispered when he had felt Gul'dan cry, even as he had to admit that Gul'dan really couldn't have. Too many expectations. Too many ways it could go wrong. Things had had to come to this point first. There had been a silence between them before, woven into the spaces between words they exchanged in private, and for that reason unbreakable by words alone.

And now, walking towards the Burial Fields with Gul'dan in a gentler, purifying silence, Ner'zhul couldn't help but marvel at the lightness that was in his heart now. He had lived with the weight of that shadow for such a long time that he had forgotten what it had been like when he had not felt it on himself. The spirit-tender of the Shadowmoon clan, half his life was spent in the company of the ancestors. Only now he realised the extent to which the living half had been overshadowed by the beloved dead. He had been present for every burial rite of his clan since becoming its head shaman, and felt something of himself go with the spirits on the day he had performed the rituals of parting for Rulkan; for the years afterwards, he had not believed it possible for that part of himself to regrow, and he had not been wrong. Nothing could grow again in the place where another person had been.

But there was enough room in his heart for someone else to take a different spot. Take root. Grow into not a replacement for something he had lost, but something different and just as wonderful.

And now Ner'zhul would do anything he could to be able to be the same for Gul'dan. He did not expect it to be easy as his apprentice was very different from Rulkan: secretive, wounded. There had been relief in his tears earlier that made Ner'zhul's heart ache for him, and once more he felt anger for those who had thrown Gul'dan away. He could not help but remember how Gul'dan had once felt similarly outraged on his behalf upon hearing of his loss, furious that his master had been denied. Although Ner'zhul had been slightly shocked at the time that Gul'dan had directed his outrage at the spirits and fate - not the kinds of thoughts a shaman should cultivate - he felt that he could at least relate to the feeling itself.

Besides, it was rather easier to feel anger towards those who were presumably still living. With a touch of horror, Ner'zhul wondered what it must be like to live in a clan where such cruelty was the norm, and the spirits themselves did not shun those who turned against their own. How could someone who was different be expected to revere ancestors who thought him weak and despicable?

”Master,” Gul'dan said, shaking Ner'zhul out of his thoughts. His expression was carefully neutral, but by now Ner'zhul knew him well enough to know that he was being watchful.

”Do not be concerned,” Ner'zhul reassured him. ”My thoughts turned back to anger for a moment, but...” He frowned, unsure how to continue. The Burial Fields were almost right before them now, the steady hum of the site's mystical energies already vibrating in their bones from where they stood. Ner'zhul felt rather irresponsible for allowing his negative feelings to run rampant so close to a sacred ground, but he could not bring himself to regret them.

Gul'dan touched Ner'zhul's arm. ”You've made me very happy today.” It was not spring yet and his skin felt very warm in the pleasantly cool afternoon air. ”I must admit I feel anger over it often... too often for a shaman who should be striving for serenity.” He looked at the fields ahead thoughtfully. ”It is a consuming fire, master. Perhaps we could both concentrate on happier thoughts today?”

For a moment, Ner'zhul was almost too surprised to speak. ”...this is not a side you often show to me, Gul'dan. You are absolutely right, though. I should not keep reminding you of such things when you are trying to get past them.” He smiled softly. ”I must say I like this side of you. You should speak your mind more often.”

Gul'dan glanced up at Ner'zhul and gave him a smile in return. ”I think I like this, too.”

They were now at the end of the road that had been taking them to the Burial Fields, and the power buried in the very ground of the site made it easier for them to start concentrating on the task that had brought them on the road. They would not touch the great Tribal Stones today, for the symbols were carved deep into the rock and they were here only to see to the symbols that needed repainting. Gul'dan glanced at the message recorded in the Tribal Stones. Another power slept beneath the graves, but it was taboo to the clan. Gul'dan had always been fascinated with the story of the star that had fallen from the sky. It lay now in the earth sealed and dormant, undisturbed for centuries, but as a boy Gul'dan had sometimes wished he could steal into the fields at night and hear the shadow's whispers. How different would its power be from that of the stars and the earth? How hard to learn such an alien language?

Gul'dan shivered with an unexpected pain that made him tear his gaze off the boulders. The powerful could afford to be alone, he had thought then. For many years he had stared into the heavens until he forgot to eat and sleep, dreaming of worlds beyond the stars, and never before had it occurred to him why exactly it had been so.

There had never before been a place for him on the world of his birth.

Gul'dan almost scoffed at himself. 'A shaman who should be striving for serenity' indeed. True to himself, he had simply just turned from one consuming fire to another; with a sigh, he instead turned to look at the man who had made him so happy.

Ner'zhul already knelt before some smaller stones, carefully removing old layers of paint from symbols that had been shallowed by centuries far longer than the time the Dark Star had been in this place. He was only one orc, the single strong connection Gul'dan had felt to this clan in all the time he had been its member. All of a sudden, he was painfully aware of the sheer enormity of the risk he had taken, offering himself to Ner'zhul. He remembered with stomach-turning clarity the dark thoughts that had rushed out into the open from the shadowed corners of his mind the very second he had begun to suspect that Ner'zhul regretted what they had done. That Gul'dan had, for one bright moment in his life, felt fulfilled in the company of another and then never would again. The feeling had been unspeakable.

What he felt now was more confusing, but no less intense. He wanted Ner'zhul to himself again, but also to be Ner'zhul's in return, and the thought filled him with terror. What a burden he laid on his master's shoulders! While he would never so blithely throw away the power he had managed to gather from the spirits so far, he found that he still cared little about any wounded spirit sensibilities that might result if he actually were to act on that feeling right here, right now. It was only the thought of possibly damaging Ner'zhul's standing as a shaman that managed to make him feel ashamed of even thinking it. Denying himself something for another's sake had for long been as alien a thing to him as the Dark Star itself, yet here it was. Gul'dan had wanted to at least go work alongside Ner'zhul this time, stealing a touch every now and then. Utterly speechless, he now turned away and went to work on a different stone instead as he was supposed to.

Ner'zhul had only just finished singing the spells into the fresh layer of paint that was now bound to his first stone for another year when a familiar aura of strength appeared from the beyond, approaching the two orcs rapidly. They turned to look, Gul'dan having to pause his work to do so.

”You two pups certainly took your time!” Mother Om'ra barked, her spectral form undulating with outrage. The spirit of her wolf, Gara, followed on her heels and exuded lupine disapproval at the two shamans. ”Did you perhaps think it needless to be on time because we are spirits, hmm? After all, we will not stop being dead even if we have to wait a little longer!”

Gul'dan could tell that Ner'zhul was suppressing his amusement from the way his shoulder muscles tensed alone. It was a dizzying observation, being able to see just how well he had finally learned to know another person. ”My apologies, Chieftain Om'ra,” Gul'dan said without hesitation, bowing deeply to the displeased spirit. ”Please, do not be angry with my master for this; the blame lies with me alone.”

Om'ra raised a hand to still Ner'zhul's protests and regarded Gul'dan for a moment longer than was comfortable. It was as though she saw something different this time. ”And that's _Mother_ Om'ra to you, child,” she finally grunted. ”You may have no ancestors on these grounds, but you are Shadowmoon now.”

She had made this point the first time Gul'dan had made the journey to the Burial Fields. Gul'dan had quite literally begged to differ, pleading for his right to use a more formal title as he had no kin in the valley. He had meant to put distance between himself and the former chieftain, disguising it as humility. It seemed that this would no longer be tolerated.

Gul'dan nodded. ”As you wish, Mother Om'ra.”

”Indeed I wish it.” Om'ra's eyes could not be seen from beneath her headdress, but her posture became slightly less severe. ”Well, I _am_ pleased to see you two today. You look very healthy.”

”Thank you.” Ner'zhul inclined his head politely, a smile on his lips. ”As do you.”

For a moment Mother Om'ra could only stare at him in stunned silence, Gul'dan assumed, at such audacity from such a humble shaman. Gul'dan himself took a moment to accept that his master of all people had made a joke at a spirit's expense. Something about the fact made his heart beat faster.

Then the spectral chieftain burst out in delighted and uncontrolled laughter. She doubled over as a memory of pain brushed across abdominal muscles that no longer existed, her rough voice ringing out across the sacred fields.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd forgotten you can embed images in your fics here. Looks like I need to draw something!


	6. Dangerously Close to Giving In

Two hours later, Gul'dan was finally able to go sit down on the grass outside the sacred circles and have some water for his tired throat. He and Ner'zhul really could have used at least one more shaman singing the spells with them here, but he wasn't too sorry that no one else was with them today. Gul'dan cringed a little as he tried to forget his earlier outburst. He was having more trouble these days controlling his emotions around Ner'zhul, it seemed, and that persistent voice in the back of his head was trying to tell him that Ner'zhul would quickly become displeased with him if he did not go back to being more pleasant company soon. And then where would he be?

Silencing the voice with some trouble, Gul'dan glanced back at the Burial Fields where his master still was. The spirits had always been fond of Ner'zhul's company, but today they couldn't seem to get enough of him. Apparently he had been more cheerful in his younger days, and there were plenty of ancestors in these grounds who remembered him that way and were happy to see the Ner'zhul of their memories again. Gul'dan watched him speak with the spirits, too far away to hear the words.

 _That's right... his mate was alive in those days,_ he thought.

Rulkan was not among these ancestors, her earthly remains having been laid to rest in the stone vaults of the Shadowmoon Fortress. Gul'dan wondered what Ner'zhul would say to her when she next visited. From what Gul'dan had been able to gather, she had been a reasonable if principled orc; then again, he had known some orcs he had thought reasonable before and watched them explode with fury over things he would not have bothered to raise an eyebrow over. Sometimes all it took was a nudge in a sore spot.

Gul'dan knew how to nudge. He had done it to some of those orcs himself, turning them against each other so that they would leave him alone.

He heard Ner'zhul laugh in the distance and was distracted. It was a happy, unburdened sound that made Gul'dan feel slightly warmer. Much like that joke earlier. Gul'dan grinned to himself, still amazed that Ner'zhul had had the gall to tell a dead orc that she looked healthy. Of course, Ner'zhul knew Mother Om'ra's sense of humour and what he was doing, but Gul'dan could imagine the looks on the elders' faces if they had been able to see that. The mental image was just too good, and he put a hand over his mouth lest he be the orc who sat alone laughing along with a group as though he were a part of it.

He knew something of that, too.

Although he couldn't quite stop smiling, Gul'dan sighed. He would soon have to go back to work, but he would have liked to stay in this spot a little longer, watching the countless stars through the gaps in the soft clouds. The wind had returned, carefully combing through stray strands of hair as though asking for permission to approach. It struck Gul'dan how much had changed in such a short time and how much had still remained the same, and he felt an odd twinge of confusion of not being quite sure who he was and what he wanted.

He whispered to the wind. It responded happily, asking for nothing in return.

There was once a time when Gul'dan would have remained humble on the surface but greedy in his heart, ready to take advantage of this scrap of power. Now he felt genuinely touched. A greater wind moved the clouds in the heights, and for once Gul'dan only saw the beauty of the star-spattered sky rather than an escape route to another world, another life; and although he struggled to understand it, Gul'dan felt a happiness pierce him for a single second that rippled out across his entire life, dulling the fangs of his doubts.

The Shadowmoon clan spoke not only the language of the stars, but that of the earth as well. The spirits of the earth now approached Gul'dan like they would a shy animal, gently, curiously; they told Gul'dan that Ner'zhul was coming to him now, the subtle tremors travelling across the distance between them and making the blades of grass Gul'dan sat on shudder against his feet. Gul'dan thought of the way he had heard and spoken this language for years without really listening to its words. He was not begging the spirits and the elements for attention now. Some part of his own spirit that had been closed was opening, and they sensed it. Gul'dan drew breath...

He heard the language. He was Shadowmoon now. He listened to it.

The earth responded at once, deepening their connection, and it felt wonderful and Gul'dan had to pull back in a panic because it was too much too soon, another single second that changed everything for a moment but was too out of his control. Although the connection was not quite severed, the bright moment was over as quickly as it had begun, leaving Gul'dan blinking at the blades of grass, still feeling the tremors. With a shudder, he turned his head to see their source.

”Master,” he said as steadily as he could, ”are you thirsty? It has been a long day.” Still slightly disoriented, he glanced at the almost forgotten waterskin in his hand. ”I drank from this one. Let me get the other...”

”It's fine, Gul'dan.” Ner'zhul came to sit beside his apprentice, looking a little tired but happy. ”If you don't mind me drinking from yours, that is.”

With a smile, Gul'dan gave the skin to Ner'zhul, making sure their hands touched as he did so. This earned him a smile in return, a bit more knowing than he would have expected from his often so serious master, but Gul'dan found that he quite liked it. It reminded him of their agreement earlier. Gave him something more pleasant to concentrate on than his inconveniently fluctuating emotions.

”Only three circles left,” Gul'dan commented, turning his eyes to the sky again to clear the rest of his thoughts. He carefully put a hand on the ground, a little apprehensive and curious at the same time. The earth felt warm and alive, but it seemed to understand and did not push another connection.

Ner'zhul finished his drink and followed Gul'dan's gaze. Both of them sat silently for a while, watching the winds chase clouds across the stars. It was so comfortable that it felt like a shame to move. ”We should probably go clear them soon,” Ner'zhul said anyway.

Gul'dan nodded very innocently. ”It _is_ getting late. We should not keep the... spirits waiting.”

Or themselves waiting too long for their return to Shaz'gul. Ner'zhul had to wipe a grin from the corner of his mouth. He was being exceptionally irresponsible for an Elder Shaman, but he had only just admitted to himself how much he wanted to actually live his life again... and, well, he wanted to do something that was more associated with life than the death that usually surrounded him. However, it was true that he and Gul'dan were performing an important duty in this place, and that could not be disregarded. It could only be completed as quickly as it was possible while still remaining respectful of the traditions and the spirits themselves.

”Shall we, then?” Ner'zhul asked as he stood up, extending his hand to Gul'dan.

There was very little innocence left in the look Gul'dan gave to Ner'zhul as he took his hand, but somehow they both managed to behave themselves. Only three circles left.

 

 


	7. Seize the End of the Day

As the runes glowed with renewed energy, Ner'zhul and Gul'dan took a moment to admire their work. This they had certainly deserved. Many clans took preserving their history very seriously, and Shadowmoon was no exception to this, writing down the clan's past on scrolls and carving it into rocks. Every now and then scrolls had to be copied and replaced before the old ones could fall apart and time devour their precious words; as for the stone, it was only very recently that the elders had begun discussing the recarving of some of the oldest records that were exposed to the elements.

For now, paint had to do in keeping them legible. It endured the elements. It illuminated the words. Just as the shamans that made and used it, it served a valued purpose for the good of everyone. Just as the shamans that made it and the plants it had been made from, it faded and its time eventually came to be replaced. Only the earth was immortal, only the stone immovable; the living returned to the earth, the dead lived on in the stone. This was how it was. This was how it had always been.

”Imagine,” Ner'zhul said, slightly overwhelmed by all the history concentrated in this place, ”how many generations have looked upon these words before us, how many will stand here in our place after us. Our spirits remain in the earth and our deeds in the stone, as unnumbered as the stars above the valley. Imagine, Gul'dan, we are part of this, links in a mighty chain that stretches out into eternity...” Ner'zhul turned his eyes up at the sky forever untouched by sunlight. ”...and it is _glorious_.”

It took Gul'dan a moment until he was able to answer. ”It is as you say, master,” he whispered, staring not at the stone or the words or the stars, but at Ner'zhul who spoke to him with such fire in his voice.

Ner'zhul looked at Gul'dan. He was certainly used to his apprentice agreeing with him, but there was such raw emotion in Gul'dan's voice now - and it was in his eyes, completely unhidden, admiration and passion and something deeper. Ner'zhul found that it was very easy to respond to those feelings. Very hard to resist acting on them. Well, there was no need now; the spirits had received all the attention from him they could ask for one day, as well as his word that he and Gul'dan would return soon. It was time.

”And from such lofty work one must always return to the mundane,” he said with a smile. ”Shall we go home now?”

Gul'dan nodded eagerly, and that marked the end of their day. They gathered their paint containers and water skins and other equipment and quickly left for the road that was much shorter on the way back than it had been on the way to the fields, yet almost felt longer in their impatience. It was hard to accept the hospitality awaiting them at the end of the road, but they sat down patiently and graciously as they were served a light supper by the younger shamans. Pity about the delicious meal; even Gul'dan with his appreciation for good food was in no mood to savour it. Ner'zhul excused himself first and quickly left for his small hut.

”You and the Elder Shaman took your time in the Fields today, master Gul'dan,” Keli'dan dared to comment. He was trying to look concerned, but Gul'dan was not convinced. ”How did it go? Were the spirits perhaps restless?”

”They were in a talkative mood,” Gul'dan replied calmly.

Gul'dan himself was most certainly _not_ in a talkative mood. Or at least not with these people. He was never sure how to take Keli'dan's friendly attitude, really. While Gul'dan only had significant seniority over the youngest shamans and answered to the other elders as well, technically his position as Ner'zhul's chosen apprentice and future successor was a very powerful one. It was certainly quite a complex station at this point, but it did make sense for one of the weaker ones to flatter Gul'dan for his own gain, even if only to be gained later. That would have been perfectly logical.

Instead, for a long time now it had seemed that Keli'dan had had some kind of ridiculous vision of... perhaps he had taken the shared element in their names as a sign that he was destined to become Gul'dan's best _friend_ or some nonsense of that sort. Gul'dan was not particularly interested in having friendship make his position in the clan even more complex, not even the friendship of a shaman of Keli'dan's skill. It quite frankly galled him that his standing did not immediately forbid his peers from being so familiar with him.

Then again, Gul'dan did not exactly wish to turn Keli'dan against him with unnecessary coldness, either...

”It seems that they could use some more company every once in a while,” he explained in as social a tone as he could manage in this situation, glancing over Keli'dan and the young ones. ”All of you should make an effort to visit your ancestors more often. You can see the spirits, they expect it.”

The young ones had sensed the beginnings of a mentor's rebuke coming from Gul'dan's gaze alone, and they quickly silenced any further questions on their tongues, simply nodding in pre-emptive agreement. Keli'dan eyed his superior warily. When it seemed that no further lecturing was on its way, he shrugged casually. ”My great-great-great-great-great-grandmother always tells me I should have become a famous hunter like my parents. I disagree, but how can I say that to my great-great...” Keli'dan paused, trying to remember if he actually had the exact lineage right. ”...to my revered ancestor?”

Gul'dan finished the last piece of a blood apple with more respect than he felt like showing to any of the sentient beings around him at the moment. ”Indeed,” he simply said, standing up, and willed himself to remember his manners. ”Thank you for the meal, all of you. It has been a long day, and mine is not over yet. I will see you again tomorrow.”

The others stood up as well to bow to their superior as he left. Gul'dan inclined his head to them in return as was proper, but he did not have to bow. The ones who could command that of him were fewer now than in his initiate days. They would be fewer yet in the coming years. The thought made Gul'dan rather cheerful, and he even found himself giving the others an approving smile.

And the thought of the only one he was happy to bow to made him walk away faster...

 

* * *

 

Back in his hut, Ner'zhul was done washing the journey off his body and the day of work off his spirit. The herbs in the water clung to his skin. Their scent was in the air, rising towards the sky through the smoke-hole in the ceiling. Ner'zhul had already closed the doorway with the thick, heavy leather flaps that hung by either side of the door during the day, leaving one corner open for Gul'dan as he had done for years now. Then he went to close the ceiling as well; although his hut was in a sparsely populated area of the village, he liked the extra bit of privacy. He already shared much of his life with the clan. They did not need the sounds he made at night as well.

Ner'zhul dried himself almost absent-mindedly, occasionally shaking herbs from his towel. He was just about to sweep the floor when, now that he was undistracted, he could clearly feel some weak, faraway tremors through the stone he stood on. Just in case it was someone else, he tied the towel around his waist; while orcs were generally not shy about nudity, it was still considered polite. Then the steps came closer and became familiar. Soon one corner of the door-flap was lifted, and Gul'dan entered the hut.

”You were quick,” Ner'zhul commented with some astonishment. Then he noticed that Gul'dan had not even dried himself after the cleansing ritual and could not resist a smile. ”In a hurry, I see...”

With a grin, Gul'dan bowed to him as he had always done. ”I did not wish to keep you waiting, master.”

”You do not need to...” Ner'zhul paused, recalling what he had been thinking before Gul'dan's arrival. He still felt guilty for the way he had conducted himself two days ago. Gul'dan denied that Ner'zhul had done anything wrong, and Ner'zhul disagreed with that. He was not going to start an argument on it, but he did have something he wanted to suggest. ”...actually, there was something I wished to say.”

Gul'dan nodded. ”What is it, master?”

”It's about that, Gul'dan.” Ner'zhul took a moment to consider his words. ”If we are going to be this close when we are alone,” he began, ”then perhaps, in these moments, we should be just two equal orcs rather than master and apprentice.” He saw surprise in Gul'dan's eyes and stalled a moment. It was a rather personal thing he was going to ask for. ”Perhaps you could... call me by my name, if you wish to.”

”Ah...” Gul'dan looked at Ner'zhul awhile in thought. ”I think it will take some time to become accustomed to that.”

Ner'zhul nodded. ”It is your choice, of course.” He felt more... exposed, somehow, about this than he had expected. ”I would like it very much, though. There are not many who are above me or equal to me in rank.” There was a hint of sadness in his smile. ”And fewer they become as the years go by.” He was far from old, but having risen to his position at an unusually young age meant that many of his friends and equals were not.

Gul'dan silently marvelled at how different the two of them were in this, he wishing for more formality and respect while Ner'zhul missed the feeling of familiarity and closeness. They were both certainly in a position to give what the other needed. Gul'dan grinned as he walked closer to his not-quite-master; not only had Gul'dan not expected to be able to repay his kindness earlier today so soon, the unforeseen but not unwelcome change in their relationship was a source of great confidence. Equals now, were they? The emotionally taxing day in the valley was already becoming ancient history in Gul'dan's mind as he moved to seize the opportunity.

”If it makes you happy, it makes me happy... Ner'zhul.”

The sadness disappeared from Ner'zhul's smile. ”It does make me happy.”

”And perhaps, then,” Gul'dan continued, ”I could ask something of you?”

Ner'zhul took Gul'dan's hand into his own. It had been a long day, waiting for this touch. ”Anything, Gul'dan.”

Without a shred of subtlety, Gul'dan turned his head to nod at Ner'zhul's bed. ”In that case... I think this works the best if you are on your back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever and yet having cut the chapter short at a "cliffhanger" - work's been slaying me all last month and I finally wanted to upload something before another week begins. On the other hand, it's Orctober and people are drawing orcs! I too drew a small picture of Gul'dan and Ner'zhul near the Burial Fields that you can find at the end of chapter 6. It's kind of like the Ghibli classic nobody asked for, "Gul'dan of the Shadowmoon Valley of the Wind" :D


	8. Sated

The thing Ner'zhul had somehow managed to forget about kissing another male - it _had_ been quite a long time - was that they would both have fairly large tusks to contend with. Gul'dan's did not quite fit between Ner'zhul's, and their tusks rubbed together with every movement, sending little tremors into Ner'zhul's lower jaw. The sensation was actually rather pleasant when they weren't too rough. Gul'dan seemed to think so too, kissing with a gentle grinding motion rather than realigning his head to avoid it. Ner'zhul could only lean back on his hands and let Gul'dan take the lead; as always, he had shown his apprentice what to do and Gul'dan had taken to it quickly and with confidence, leaving Ner'zhul pleased and impressed. And, of course, this time with a rather obvious physical reaction as proof. Still, he knew very well how much Gul'dan liked his verbal praise...

”It is hard to believe that you are new to this,” Ner'zhul panted as Gul'dan moved down to kiss his neck. ”Such a gentle, skilled touch.”

”Do you think so?” Gul'dan asked. He was still making a cursory attempt at sounding humble, but these words practically made him purr and squirm on Ner'zhul's lap, almost distracting him from exploring Ner'zhul's body. The peaceful and unhurried opportunity to do so won out, however, and Gul'dan's hands slipped lower. ”I always do my best to please you, mas... ah, Ner... Ner'zhul.”

Raising his eyebrows with amusement, Ner'zhul brushed Gul'dan's cheek with his thumb. It felt hot. ”Well, I should hope that I can please you as well.”

Gul'dan grinned. ”You do.”

Although Ner'zhul managed a smile back, he could still feel that nagging guilt in the back of his head, never quite letting him forget how much better he could have done things last time. How Gul'dan had deserved something less rough and greedy for his first time. Ner'zhul knew now for certain that it had been that, as Gul'dan had admitted it only moments ago, apologetic for his lack of experience. Why did he still feel that he had to apologise for something like that? Perhaps because Ner'zhul had seen that Gul'dan had been nervous and yet gone through with his own needs and preferences because he had been so desperate to satisfy his own flesh. Ner'zhul would never have behaved that way with Rulkan, especially if she had been inexperienced when they became mates. He had been in a dark mood that night, had been for a long time, and he did not like the sort of person he was - or had been - becoming.

Ner'zhul awoke from these thoughts when he noticed that Gul'dan's hands had stopped moving. As expected, he found his apprentice watching him again, only this time without the nervousness. His expression was hard to interpret.

”Perhaps I'm not doing a very good job pleasing you after all,” Gul'dan mused. ”Or perhaps you're thinking of unnecessary things again?”

”Ah, you know that I regret doing things the way I did,” Ner'zhul said with some reluctance. He could see now what Gul'dan's expression meant: he was clearly unimpressed with Ner'zhul's constant self-flagellation.

Gul'dan sighed. ”I think we have slightly different recollections of the way things happened, and we blame ourselves for things that the other took no offence to. Yes, I had a... vulnerable moment afterwards, but I meant it when I said that I enjoyed it.” His hands moved again, sliding up Ner'zhul's chest and over his shoulders. ”You told me that I'm your equal, and I believe you. I tell you that any vulnerability on my part does not mean fragility.” A warm look appeared in Gul'dan's eyes. ”Believe me, Ner'zhul. If you caused me any harm, it was not permanent.”

”I am still concerned about my own thoughts in that moment,” Ner'zhul admitted, even as his body reacted to Gul'dan's touch. ”Chieftains should never think of themselves first,” he said, voice faltering as those exploring hands went lower again, ”and never be so... so greedy.”

Now Gul'dan laughed; it was a low, deep sound that made Ner'zhul shiver almost as much as the hand that closed around his cock. ”Oh, my master... what a mistake you have made in making me your equal.” He brought his face close to Ner'zhul's, moving towards his ear. ”Believe this as well,” he whispered. ”I too am greedy, and I too hunger, and you have given me permission to act on that.”

Ner'zhul barely had time to react to such shockingly possessive words from someone seemingly so humble; the hand began to move, and once more his resistance quickly dissolved into the heat of Gul'dan's skin. He laughed weakly, bringing up one arm to wrap it over Gul'dan's shoulders. ”I could at least have kissed you first then. It... it would have been pleasant.”

Gul'dan seemed to agree with the kiss he gave to Ner'zhul for that. He grinned as he pulled back. ”Well, to be fair, I _was_ in a hurry to put my mouth somewhere else. And speaking of which...”

Completely Gul'dan's now, Ner'zhul did not protest as Gul'dan gently pushed him on his back and moved down. Was this really his apprentice? A little more experience, and he would be able to absolutely melt Ner'zhul however he wished. A moment later, his mouth accomplished that with the promise of a touch.

”Direct me if it is not to your liking,” Gul'dan murmured against Ner'zhul's skin. It was obvious from his tone that he knew exactly how right he was doing this. He had had no opportunity to improve his skills between the last time and this, but he did have an opportunity now to do things more lovingly and less desperately. That combined with his complete loss of practised humility seemed to make him unstoppable.

Ner'zhul grunted something unintelligible in return, hands on Gul'dan's shoulders, and every reaction of his body told his quickly learning apprentice what he could not tell with his words. It was Ner'zhul's turn to squirm, and he welcomed it happily. Such warmth... he had been so cold for so long...

”A little... please, stop there or I won't last...” he panted, moving his hands to his sides to grip the fur he lay on lest he hurt Gul'dan.

”Please let me finish it,” Gul'dan said after some difficulty letting go of Ner'zhul. His voice was unsteady with lust. ”I can _taste_ it coming. I want it.”

Unable to resist the combined force of Gul'dan's desire for him and his own body's release right _there_ , Ner'zhul allowed it with a hurried nod.

”And put your hands back,” Gul'dan said with an audible grin. ”I told you I am not fragile.”

Ner'zhul did so, fingers trembling against the softer but resilient skin. He did not give in to the need to move his hips, but not begging Gul'dan to move harder and faster proved more difficult. He knew it would be better if he let it happen more slowly. _Warm._ Pleasure no longer had to be temporary relief, something to be done with and forget. _To be... warm again..._ And as Gul'dan brought Ner'zhul to his climax, he cried out with a far greater relief, his entire body at once weakened and stiff. At first Gul'dan pulled back a little in surprise at the hot surge in his mouth, then went back down again with even more determination to swallow all of it. Ner'zhul shuddered a little, eyes closed, hands limp and weak on those reliable shoulders as he felt Gul'dan lick at droplets he had not managed to catch on his first try. Ner'zhul only remembered his hands when Gul'dan began to sit up; he let them fall to the sides, utterly drained of strength.

It took Ner'zhul a moment to remember that he was probably being watched now, a moment longer to actually feel the eyes on himself. He opened his own eyes with some difficulty, seeking Gul'dan's.

He found them clouded with lust. ”Oh, Ner'zhul. You are even more handsome that way.”

”Just look at yourself,” Ner'zhul said with a grin, his breath finally even enough to speak. ”I do not know how I resisted as long as I did.” These words clearly pleased Gul'dan, who had already looked quite pleased to begin with. Ner'zhul beckoned him closer, and he approached eagerly. ”What now, then?”

Gul'dan lay down next to Ner'zhul, one hand returning to his chest. ”Well, I _was_ hoping that you would take me again,” he mused, eyes straying downwards, ”but I can see how I have made that impossible for the time being...”

Ner'zhul chuckled at that. ”Ah yes, the impatience of youth. Was it worth it?”

”You are too young to say that to me,” Gul'dan retorted with a laugh. ”And yes, it was.” His hand moved to Ner'zhul's arm. ”Could you use your fingers again?”

”If you can bring me some oil. I do not think I can walk.”

There was a downright smug look on Gul'dan's face when he heard this, but Ner'zhul found that he had well deserved it. He _had_ been amazingly good, especially for one who had done that only once before. Ner'zhul even felt a rather pleasant stab of malicious joy at the thought that those who only saw Gul'dan's smaller stature would never know what pleasure his genuine enthusiasm could offer. Quite honestly it served them right.

Gul'dan returned with a flask before Ner'zhul could further explore these unsavoury thoughts. ”This one?” he asked.

”That will do.”

Ner'zhul pushed himself up on one elbow as Gul'dan lay down again. He oiled two of his fingers and reached down between Gul'dan's legs. There had been little resistance last time, that little coming from perfectly expectable nervousness, and this time Gul'dan knew what to expect and was anxious to have it done again. Once again he writhed with some impatience, but that passed quickly enough when Ner'zhul began to move his hand at a faster pace. There was an amount of surprise in Gul'dan's moan when Ner'zhul leaned down for a kiss, as though he had not expected to get one after the things he had done with his mouth, yet he returned it with great eagerness.

Despite these encouraging reactions, it seemed to Ner'zhul that Gul'dan was still trying to control himself to some measure, to not quite let himself be overcome. He was trying to look Ner'zhul in the eye and still ended up mostly looking anywhere else. Well, obviously Gul'dan did not like others seeing him in a vulnerable state and Ner'zhul wanted him to be comfortable. After a moment of thinking, the solution seemed obvious.

”What are...” was all Gul'dan had the time to say as Ner'zhul moved down; the rest came out as a shuddering groan as he felt Ner'zhul's mouth on himself.

This was another thing Ner'zhul had not done in a very long time. He had not particularly missed it, or any other act he could have done with another male or female, when he had been with Rulkan; but this was with Gul'dan, he was doing this for Gul'dan, and giving him this pleasure was almost enough to arouse Ner'zhul again despite the fact that he had only just spent himself. As for Gul'dan, he seemed to have lost most of his self-control to this combination of sensations. He was making more noise - Ner'zhul could even hear his own name there, sweet and welcome - and it was a fortunate thing that his nails were short, or he would have drawn blood when he gripped Ner'zhul's shoulders. Considering how aroused he had been even before this, Ner'zhul was not surprised at all with how quickly it was over. He took a great deal of pride and pleasure in the way Gul'dan's thighs shook as he came, and did his best to catch every drop of his release the way Gul'dan had done for him.

And strangely enough, despite how very differently they had done everything this time, there was still some awkwardness as they lay next to each other afterwards. Still, Ner'zhul didn't think much of it, considering how recent this change in their relationship was. Besides, they were both much more accustomed to being alone at night. This was to be expected.

”I hope I did not scratch you,” Gul'dan said after a moment of thoughtful silence.

”It does not feel like you did,” Ner'zhul assured him, feeling pleasantly drowsy.

”Good.” There was another moment of silence. ”It would look suspicious if you were to suddenly start covering your upper body.”

Ner'zhul had not even noticed that he had closed his eyes before he had to open them to stare at Gul'dan. It was unlike him to make jokes, but now he stared back with a wicked glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Ner'zhul burst out laughing.

”I suppose you're right,” he managed after a while.

”Then again, perhaps you deserve to be suspicious for a day or two,” Gul'dan went on. ”I have spent quite a few sleepless nights wondering why it is that you must go every waking moment of your life half-naked.”

”It is a warm country,” Ner'zhul tried to defend himself, ”and I am awake now and _completely_ naked.”

Gul'dan looked down with some appreciation and interest. ”That is good. That keeps me from falling asleep.”

”Why? Will you not sleep here?” Ner'zhul had still been half-joking as he said this, but the humour disappeared from Gul'dan's eyes and yet more silence followed. ”...would you rather go back to your own hut?”

Gul'dan shifted uncomfortably. ”Do not misunderstand... it is only that you are a seer, and your sleep is for your visions...”

He did not have to say more for Ner'zhul to understand. _Rulkan._ To be perfectly honest, he had been so preoccupied with this long-lost feeling of being alive and happy that he had simply forgotten to wonder what his dead mate might think of all this. It was as though he had already begun to think of her as a beloved memory rather than someone who was still very much a part of his life. He nodded with a sigh. ”Will you at least stay awake with me a moment before you go?”

Gul'dan had no trouble looking him in the eye now. He smiled and cleared his throat. ”In that case...” He put a hand on Ner'zhul's hip. ”...again?”

Ner'zhul smiled back. ”Give me a moment.”

 


	9. A Taste of Things to Come

As Ner'zhul went to sleep that night, still feeling Gul'dan's hands on his body, there were no dreams or visits by friendly spirits. Instead, he had one of his visions. Often he saw things exactly as they would come to pass in time, although perhaps not perfectly understood in advance, but this particular vision felt oddly disjointed and disorienting. Ner'zhul had the strangest sensation of watching it happen through a film of sorts, just sheer enough to see through but opaque enough that he could not be sure of every detail.

The sky was that of Shadowmoon Valley with its familiar stars and comforting eternal twilight, but something about it felt alien, foreign: it almost felt as though the film over the scene was actually a vision of the sky as it was supposed to be, and something was shifting behind it in the sky that was _going_ to be. Ner'zhul wanted to look around for any familiar landmarks or clues, but his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the clouds. They were gathering too swiftly to be directed by idle winds, and soon they began to form a vortex of some sort, as if in preparation for a spell. It looked like it could be shamanistic magic, but it did not _feel_ like it... perhaps that magic the ogres used, then? Oddly enough, Ner'zhul did not feel threatened or concerned by any of this, either; not when he could see a glimmer of the blue crackle that confirmed the magic's source, not even when a barely visible flash born of that arcane spark rippled out across the sky as far as the eye could see.

Ner'zhul knew then that something was supposed to have happened in this spot, but it had not... because of that spark, it _would_ not. He stood there long watching the heavens for more signs, and none came; then the clouds began to disperse, bringing the vision to an abrupt end.

He awoke almost immediately afterwards, still tired after his long day in the valley - not to mention the night that had followed, both the pleasant half of it as well as this... well, the vision had been mostly curious rather than outright unpleasant. It had not foretold anything that felt evil or disastrous, but if any of that foreign magic was to be performed in Shadowmoon Valley, the clan would have to be made aware of it. The Gorian Empire had inflicted a great deal of damage against orc clans across the many countries of Draenor, and it had no place in the valley under the stars. Even if the spell in the vision had seemed harmless or perhaps even benevolent...

Ner'zhul shifted. _But wait..._

Didn't the draenei use that same magic? Apart from some minor trading and polite but reserved encounters every now and then, the orcs and draenei had few dealings. Still, the Shadowmoon Clan's strange neighbours had been seen practising their magic - only a few times, in situations that the orcs had probably not been meant to witness, for the draenei seemed oddly careful and sparing with their power. Perhaps they had something to do with this. Perhaps something would force their hand into this display of magic that was to come. The other elders needed to be consulted, and more scouts needed to be sent out, but first Ner'zhul would tell his apprentice.

He glanced to his right side, which had been empty for many a lonely year and was empty now. He still could not help feeling slightly conflicted about everything that had happened; he had loved Rulkan dearly when she had lived, and he had fully expected to never feel anything even remotely similar for anyone else again. Of course it had not been as easy as simply accepting how close he had become to Gul'dan over all these years. But now that he had...

...ah well. Ner'zhul would have gladly woken next to Gul'dan in the morning, but he could not deny that he had probably been moving a little too fast. It would not be fair to anyone involved if he tried to use his blossoming relationship with Gul'dan to ease his own heartache. Ner'zhul closed his eyes, playing with the thought of being able to take some time off from his duties and simply think about his own life and where it was going. It was just a daydream, of course: he would at the very least be expected to have his apprentice perform his tasks for him in the meantime, which would then leave them with little private time together anyway. Still, it was a pleasant thought. Just some more time...

Ner'zhul had not realised that he had been falling asleep again until the sound of someone calling his name jolted him awake. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, waiting to see if it had come from a dream or if it would happen again.

”Master? Are you awake?” came the voice from outside after a moment, this time quite a bit louder, very familiar and very welcome.

”I am,” Ner'zhul told the caller, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. ”Come in, Gul'dan.”

Gul'dan lifted his corner of the door-flap and stepped in carrying a basket. ”There were people nearby, so I thought it better to call you by your...” Turning to look at Ner'zhul and seeing him still in bed, Gul'dan paused and could not help but smile. He went to lay the basket on the cooking table in the centre of the hut. ”So I take it that you too exerted yourself a bit too much yesterday.”

Ner'zhul grunted weakly. ”Did you oversleep as well?”

”A little. Some of the junior shamans came calling for me.” Gul'dan took off the piece of cloth protecting the contents of the basket. ”I brought some fish and vegetables. Would you prefer them fried or in a soup?”

”Fried, I think. It's faster.” Ner'zhul watched Gul'dan open the ceiling and use a fire spell on the firewood waiting in the centre of the table. He then wiped clean a small preparation space and began to arrange the ingredients on it.

As Ner'zhul watched him bend over his task, listening to the rhytmic chop of his knife, he could not help but remember days long gone again. How he had watched Rulkan do the same on those mornings when he had been too tired to move, exhausted after long days when so much had been demanded of him and his powers. How he had taken his turn preparing the breakfast on better mornings, letting Rulkan sleep late and wake up to the scents coming from the table. How the best mornings of their shared life had been spent cooking together. A sweet, nostalgic sorrow washed over Ner'zhul as he watched his apprentice occupy that space now; Gul'dan had helped him many times before with these tasks, but this morning everything was different.

”Thank you, Gul'dan. It is not your duty, but...”

Gul'dan looked a little surprised as he gave Ner'zhul a glance over his shoulder. ”Of course I'll do this for you. I _am_ your apprentice.” He paused as he turned to look at his work. ”It is also my pleasure. It has always been that.”

Nodding to himself, Ner'zhul thought back to the years without Rulkan. ”For me as well.” Gul'dan had wandered into Shadowmoon Valley fairly soon after her passing, and soon after that he had begun to fill some of the emptiness, his presence growing with each year that passed. ”Would you like to eat with me? Now that you are no longer only my apprentice.”

This time Gul'dan smiled as he looked at Ner'zhul, readily accepting the offer. ”I would like that.” He reached under the table, pulled out some herbs and spices for the fish and seemed to remember his apprentice's manners again. ”What about your... other morning routines, though? Should I leave you alone for a moment?”

With a still tired sigh, Ner'zhul pushed aside his wolf pelt, forced himself to sit up and yet had the energy to laugh. ”Well, you have already seen everything, so the choice is entirely yours.”

Gul'dan laughed as well. ”Go ahead, then. I'll try not to cut my finger.”

Flattered and in much higher spirits, Ner'zhul took a towel and made his way to the bathing corner. He had inherited the hut from his last master who had inherited it from her last master and so on, and at no point in the hut's history had anyone even thought of updating the simple system; the floor was lower in that place, and water ran out along little grooves in the floor and through narrow tunnels in the wall. It worked just fine, but some of the newer, bigger huts had more comfortable bathing areas with simple showers or even small tubs that were not big enough to replace the communal baths, but were quite useful for bathing children. Ner'zhul, accustomed to not asking for much, had been content with water buckets and rough sponges and kneeling on the stone floor. Now he knelt again, reaching for his water and sponge.

Gul'dan filled a small pot with water and put it over the fire. He wanted to offer to heat some water for Ner'zhul as well, but he knew well his master and his humility. He also knew that said humility was quite genuine in Ner'zhul's case. As for Gul'dan himself, publicly he agreed with it and privately thought that the chieftain and the mightiest shaman in all the world could really have asked for something a little nicer for himself. Had he but asked, the Spirit of Water itself would have filled his water buckets for him... yet the fact that he never did ask seemed to be exactly why the Spirits loved him so and were ready to do so much for him. To be perfectly honest, Gul'dan struggled to understand the logic of this sort of relationship.

Then again, while Gul'dan was not one for great luxuries and extravagance, he did like being comfortable; he had to admit that this moment, right on this spot, was very comfortable indeed. A thick, warm pelt separated him from the hard, cool stone floor. He was preparing a tasty breakfast. That breakfast he would share with Ner'zhul, along with the pelt. It was a beginning, but it was also quite an achievement for someone who had spent more than half of his young life without the comfort of warm meals and people to share them with.

Reaching under the table again, Gul'dan took out a small pouch filled with a mixture of dried and ground herbs and roots. He sprinkled a layer of the mixture on the bottom of two cups to wait until the water was boiling. The sound of cooler water being poured from a bucket distracted him for a moment, and he gave Ner'zhul a glance that quickly turned into a stare. Ner'zhul put the bucket down and began to clean himself with the sponge, and Gul'dan saw no reason not to indulge himself a little now that he no longer had to pretend that he wasn't looking. And who could have blamed him? Although Ner'zhul had left his weapons behind upon dedicating his life to shamanism, he still had an orc's naturally strong body and was very pleasing to the eye. Remaining drops of water caught the dim light of the hut as they slithered down his muscles. Gul'dan followed them with his eyes, quickly working up a hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast.

He realised he had been indulging himself for quite a long time when it took a moment for Ner'zhul's laugh to shake him awake.

”That _is_ fitting, you know,” Ner'zhul said, nodding at the fire once he had successfully brought his apprentice's eyes back up.

With some reluctance, Gul'dan turned to look at what Ner'zhul was talking about. The water was boiling to the point of overflowing as though as some sort of euphemism for Gul'dan's state of arousal. ”The Spirit of Water is amused, I see,” he commented. Looking back at Ner'zhul again, the older orc's grin proved quite contagious. ”What a shame that it is so late,” Gul'dan said with a laugh.

”Indeed.” Ner'zhul rinsed himself again, regretting that there had been no time to ask Gul'dan to join him. Another morning, then. He dried himself quickly and tied a comfortable kilt around his waist to weaken the temptation.

Meanwhile, Gul'dan had poured hot water into the cups and had begun to fry the fish - blind lake sturgeon, Ner'zhul's favourite. The vegetables had been added to the pan early enough that they were already turning light brown and sweet on the surface, and late enough that they would remain crunchy, just the way Ner'zhul liked them. Ner'zhul considered this for a moment.

”You have only thought of me again, haven't you?” he asked as he sat down on the pelt. ”You help me so often with my meals, even though that is not even an apprentice's duty, and...”

”Do not worry about that,” Gul'dan said quickly. ”Many apprentices choose to help their masters beyond their actual duties.”

Ner'zhul blinked. He had meant to ask if Gul'dan wouldn't like to prepare some of his own favourite foods every now and then, but this defensive tone troubled him. ”Yes, but... to the extent you have?”

Gul'dan checked the fish and found it ready to be served. ”Is it so uncommon? The path of shamanism can be a lonely one. I often feel as though there is a sort of companionship in the way an apprentice assists a master.”

Ner'zhul set out two bowls for them, listening to the rebuke of his conscience. He often worried that by keeping Gul'dan so close to himself, he kept the younger orc from forming close relationships with the rest of the clan. He did not even have a wolf! Even Ner'zhul had his Skychaser despite the tradition being for the shamans to walk to holy sites with their own feet. However, every time Ner'zhul tried to discuss any of this, Gul'dan was quick to argue that he was perfectly happy to serve his master in any way he could - just like he was starting to do now.

”I am only saying that you are allowed to think of your own needs, too.”

”Yet I do not wish to forget my position.”

”You know, Gul'dan,” Ner'zhul said, taking the frying pan and serving them both, ”what _I_ often feel is that you actually get your way quite a lot by being humble and selfless. Sometimes it is difficult to know if it is that, or if you are denying yourself something because it is expected of you.”

This time Gul'dan actually froze for a second, and immediately Ner'zhul regretted making his comment. He had observed this trait of Gul'dan's a long time ago and was by no means annoyed by it, but it could certainly sound that way. Then, tilting his head a little, Gul'dan raised his eyebrows in fascination, as though he had just had an epiphany of sorts. He did not explain it - how Ner'zhul wished that he would sometimes speak his deepest thoughts! - but at least he did not seem hurt or offended.

”Then I will be direct with you, being your equal when we are alone. I _am_ greedy, as I said.” Gul'dan accepted his share of the meal with an oddly satisfied look. ”I wanted to be close to you, and so I took on all these duties. But I wonder...” He turned his eyes to Ner'zhul, seeking, reading. ”If I were to ask you without humility, selfishly...”

The pause seemed to say that despite his bold words, Gul'dan still hesitated to do so. Ner'zhul stared back into his eyes and nodded slowly. ”...yes?”

”Would you be displeased with me? Or more willing to grant me my wish?”

Ner'zhul had not even noticed the concerned frown on his face until it left his brow. ”I would gladly grant you any wishes I can, selflessly or selfishly asked.”

The strange look on Gul'dan's face turned into a smile. He reached towards Ner'zhul's face, paused as if reconsidering something, and moved his hand down to carefully grasp one of the short braids of beard growing from Ner'zhul's chin. All of Ner'zhul's greater experience amounted to nothing as he was pulled down for a kiss that set his blood on fire; he trembled as if he were the inexperienced one, barely registering the clatter of his bowl against the stone floor, and with his now free hand grabbed Gul'dan's shoulder for support to better kiss back. They spent a long while like that, both clearly wanting to take it further but holding back, as they were unfortunately conscious of the morning crawling on and their presence being required elsewhere soon. It was ultimately Gul'dan who also ended the kiss, sliding a thumb along Ner'zhul's jawline as he let go of the braid.

”I will remember your promise, then. And I did mean what I said,” he said quietly, his face still close to Ner'zhul's, ”about the path of shamanism being a lonely one.”

”You are right,” Ner'zhul replied after a while, finally taking his hand off Gul'dan's shoulder. ”I do often feel lonely.”

Gul'dan nodded as they straightened their backs. ”So do I.”

By some whim of pure luck, neither of them had managed to spill the contents of their bowls as they had pushed them away. Gul'dan picked them both up with a sigh of relief. He sat beside Ner'zhul, and he in turn wrapped his arm around Gul'dan's waist as they began to eat. It was a long time before Ner'zhul remembered his vision again.

 


	10. Shields

”A shield, perhaps?” Gul'dan wondered, taking a tentative sip from his cup. The herbal drink had cooled down from piping hot to a pleasantly warm temperature, and he drank more.

”It could have been that, but against what?”

Gul'dan gave Ner'zhul a glance and turned his eyes to the ceiling and the stars. He thought of the star that had fallen from the sky in the days of the ancestors - _his_ ancestors now, he remembered, and had to quickly tell himself that the warmth he felt came from his drink. He thought of how much the star looked like a crystal, although not quite like those native to the valley. How much it resembled another large crystal at another holy site, in another land...

”Perhaps it has something to do with the draenei. Perhaps they... know something.”

Ner'zhul stirred the small pieces of roots in his drink. ”We should probably contact them as well."

There was no reply from Gul'dan, but he gave a silent nod after a moment of contemplation. "I will gather the other elders. Let us see if any of them have seen any signs of this future yet."

Finishing his drink quickly, Gul'dan disappeared outside to perform duties actually expected of apprentices. As for Ner'zhul, he still felt grateful that he had decided to take on his other tasks all those years ago. They had brought Ner'zhul a great deal of comfort in darker times, even long before there had been feelings other than gratitude.

He changed into something a little more appropriate for a meeting of elders and, with a smile, remembered Gul'dan's words about him being a distraction with his usual lack of clothing. Having one's desire returned in the heat of the moment was wonderful enough on its own, but being thought of, dreamed of... now there was something that kept one warm long after. Ner'zhul had to quickly step outside to allow the winds to cool his thoughts.

He ignored the concerned glances of his people as he walked to the meeting hall, knowing that they would not dare to ask him questions. Treating them so was yet another source of guilt for him, but he could not let himself feel guilt for the other reason he was tired today. He had given so much already. His waking moments, his sleep, a lifetime of servitude. While he served gladly, he could not keep denying himself. Things had to change. There had to be a balance.

He was at the entrance of the meeting hall, and despite knowing how serious his vision could possibly be, he felt reluctant to actually do this. This was quickly becoming another extreme in his search for balance: as tempting as it was, he could not very well behave like a boy with his first crush and only a boy's responsibilities. And yet Ner'zhul could not help smiling at the sight of Gul'dan as he stepped in. He was only serving the elders drinks and a light meal with the help of two other high-ranking apprentices, but his always reliable figure had never looked more appealing.

Gul'dan, for his part, had years of experience in concealing his desires; he turned his back on the others to bow to his master and took the opportunity to return the smile in secret. This was still something that he preferred to keep between Ner'zhul and himself. _But if I were truly powerful_ , he thought, _then I could do as I wished and no one would be able to question us..._

"Master, I must go now to meet some of the junior shamans," he said aloud. "I promised them a lesson."

"Very well," Ner'zhul replied with a nod. "I will speak to you later."

The apprentices bowed to the elders and left them to their meeting. Outside, Gul'dan politely said his goodbyes to his peers and went to see how the young ones could be helped this time. While he was not yet experienced enough to take an apprentice of his own, he already knew enough to teach the initiates.

"Master Gul'dan," greeted the not so junior Keli'dan from one of the flat-topped little hills surrounding the village as he saw Gul'dan approach. "We are already gathered here."

Gul'dan took his time climbing up, wondering what tone he should take. Keli'dan, too, could have chosen his own group of initiates to teach, yet he was here. "Keli'dan," he began, buying time. "I was under the impression that this was to be a lesson for..."

"Ah well, you see," Keli'dan inserted when the break seemed long enough to safely assume that he was not interrupting his superior, "I wished to ask for your advice in creating a new spell and thought that the initiates might benefit from it, too."

Coming to a stop before the site of his intended lesson, Gul'dan regarded his students. Young and bright-eyed, they seemed excited about the idea of learning this way. It was not as though Gul'dan thought it a bad idea, either, but he knew very well a student's attempt to ingratiate himself with a master, and he was looking at one right now. Although this was not the same thing as Gul'dan with his longed-for Ner'zhul, he still felt a little uncomfortable when it was his turn to receive attention of any sort. That sort of thing pushed him out of the safety of shadows.

"What kind of spell?" he asked warily, resisting the temptation to begin circling Keli'dan like some sort of fascinating but slightly dangerous beast.

"An aggressive one, for close combat."

Gul'dan nodded. Keli'dan tended to have trouble keeping his foes at a distance. "Tell us more."

"I have for long thought of a way for a dedicated spellcaster to defend against a weapon-wielding enemy," Keli'dan began, clearly excited about the topic. "After all, many of us have little experience with weapons."

"Well, you are right about that..." Gul'dan was tempted to feel self-conscious about his own lack of combat skill, but it was true that many casters carried a dagger or a light mace at most.

"And so I realised that I need a spell that both defeats my enemy and punishes them for taking me for weak."

Now this kind of talk was more to Gul'dan's liking. He could certainly agree with this. "Very good. Go on."

"First I would lure them close with my presumedly weak and defenceless body..." Even in his excitement, Keli'dan came to an abrupt stop as he noticed the looks he got for this. Young the initiates were, but they were not children, and they seemed to find this rather amusing. "...well, the wording was probably not the best."

Even Gul'dan had to fight to control his amusement. "No, this is most fascinating. You would lure them close with your body. Do go on."

"Ah, please do not laugh, master Gul'dan. I would follow it with a devastating counter-attack, preferably with an explosion of fire magic."

"Hmm." Gul'dan humoured Keli'dan by giving this scenario some serious thought. "And how would you defend yourself?" He was actually somewhat fascinated by the concept. "Some sort of shield? Earth or air?"

"This is what I hoped to solve during this lesson, or at least begin to do so."

Nodding again, Gul'dan glanced at the initiates. "I believe we can make this a lesson. It is time for you to learn some practical application of shielding magic, then."

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, the meeting of the elders had lasted a while but gone quite as expected. There had been some concern about this magic, but the scryers and seers of the clan frequently sought signs of danger in their visions, and there had been none. It seemed fairly safe to assume that the shield, if it was indeed that, would succeed in deflecting whatever threat it had been designed for. Quite a few elders agreed that it was most likely the draenei who were behind it, and plans were made to approach them in a sensitive and tactful manner to discuss the matter. What they could not agree on was whether to do this before the event or after it; it could be, depending on how far into the future it was going to take place, that even the draenei did not yet know that they would have to use this spell. The future was nothing to meddle with. For all the clan knew, they might very well fluster the notoriously shy draenei into fleeing instead, and then they would have to face what was to come alone.

"Times like this, I wish we had spent more time learning to know our neighbours instead of letting them hide away in our valley," mused Uldakor, stroking his aching knees by the fire. "If they would be our friends, both would benefit - if not, at least we would know our enemy."

"It is hard to imagine them as our enemies," added Ku'targ, but the harsh note to his voice suggested that he did not believe it because of potential friendship, but rather because of draenei weakness.

The others nodded without comment. This was not the time to argue draenei compatibility with traditional orkish values, but the sentiment was noted. The elders began to leave the meeting hall to make their preparations, but Ner'zhul lingered a moment with some of them, intending to discuss possibly forming a delegation to send to the draenei if the signs for it seemed good. Naturally, he was going to go with it.

"You have done more than enough lately, Ner'zhul," Uldakor said in his usual blunt style. "Take a moment for yourself."

Ner'zhul blinked. Apparently, he had been far more obvious about his recent tiredness than he had thought. "And what of my duty to the clan, honoured elder?"

"As I said, you have done enough." It took Uldakor a moment to stand up, but he too tried to pretend that he was unaffected by the limits of his body and needed no help. Such hypocrisy was very typical of him, just widely tolerated because of his advanced age. "Take some time."

While Ner'zhul felt intensely grateful that he led a clan where duties could be safely shared between a council of trusted elders - there were clans where a chieftain unable to stand alone would not be a chieftain for long - he quite visibly frowned at the thought of a break, however short.

"Are you going to grow out your hair, Ner'zhul?" Master Go'vid asked all of a sudden.

Again, Ner'zhul blinked the frown away. "No. Why do you ask?"

Go'vid took his aching hands away from the warmth of the fire at the centre of the meeting hall. His skin still felt a little cool as he brushed one hand over Ner'zhul's head. "Well, it _is_ growing back, at any rate."

"Now that sounds unsightly. Have you been neglecting your grooming, young Ner'zhul?" Uldakor chuckled, no longer able to see the stubble but clearly remembering the sight from Ner'zhul's boyhood. "Perhaps you should do something about that."

Ner'zhul stood a moment staring at the two old orcs, trying to summon the will to be at least a little offended by the familiarity with which they still treated him now that he was grown and in a position of power. He could not. They were part of the generation that had trained and raised him, beloved now and greatly missed when gone. He burst into fond and easy laughter, grateful for their continued concern.

"Well then, if you must insist," he chuckled. "I will not take long."

Old Uldakor looked thoughtful. "I have not heard you laugh like that in years, Ner'zhul."

"You might hear it more often from now on," Ner'zhul said before remembering Gul'dan's reaction before the meeting; he would probably not want others to know yet. Fortunately, the old ones only gave him hopeful smiles and did not ask him to elaborate. "But that will be later, if I am to obey my elders..."

"Just go, greenhorn," Go'vid said, probably trying to sound stern but unable to hide how pleased he was with this return to the Ner'zhul of his younger days.

With an amused smile, Ner'zhul left his duties for the time being and went to see about catching up on his grooming. He felt renewed as he walked back to his hut, smelling meat cooking over a fire somewhere and seeing the members of his clan in their daily tasks. Ah, there had been no reason to be frustrated earlier: he should have remembered that the people closest to him had his best interests in mind, and that the members of his clan loved him. Sooner or later, the balance would be achieved. This time he returned the glances that became relieved smiles on his way to his hut.

"It looks like the meeting went well," Gul'dan commented, appearing from behind some small huts that dotted the path to the hills. He glanced around and saw that they were not as alone as he would have liked. "...master," he quickly added.

"As well as it could when we know so little still," replied Ner'zhul. He gestured for Gul'dan to follow him. "Of course, sending a delegate or an envoy must be discussed more and planned carefully, but we are optimistic. And what of your lesson, Gul'dan?"

"It went quite well! Keli'dan had the idea of creating a new spell and teaching the young ones at the same time." Gul'dan began to recount the details of the lesson until they reached Ner'zhul's hut. He helped Ner'zhul pull the heavy door-flaps aside and tie them with ropes to let more air and light in. "...but I do wonder at times why he keeps trying. I have not exactly made myself approachable."

Quite surprised that Gul'dan would say it so openly now, but glad that he felt comfortable enough with Ner'zhul to be honest, Ner'zhul only nodded in understanding. "Well, he may be a little awkward at times, but he is very sharp and skilled with magic. Perhaps he sees in you someone who would understand him."

"Perhaps..."

The silence that followed seemed more thoughtful than troubled, and Ner'zhul felt some hope that Gul'dan might soon begin to become closer to the other members of the clan as well. Keli'dan did have a few friends to begin with. If Gul'dan came to trust them all, perhaps that would be the beginning of him eventually opening his heart to the rest of his people - and they _were_ his people now, for he had been accepted by the beloved ancestors and no one whose word mattered would doubt such a person.

"What are you doing next?" Gul'dan asked, apparently done pondering his deeper relationship with the clan for now. "I have some time before I head to the armoury. The blacksmiths are finishing some new hunting spears, and I promised to bless them later today."

"Well, it seems that I have neglected myself and was told so after the meeting," said Ner'zhul, noticing yet another way in which their relationship had changed: normally an apprentice did not need to know that his master still could be rebuked by his own master, but now they were in his hut and Gul'dan was more than his apprentice. "Old ones... so meddlesome they can be, but they mean well. Apparently my head needs to be shaved."

"Oh?" Gul'dan's eyes turned to the top of Ner'zhul's head. "I cannot say I noticed. I must have been too preoccupied with your other head lately."

The casual tone of Gul'dan's observation meant that it took Ner'zhul a moment to really understand what he had said. When it hit him, he was astonished to actually feel some heat creep onto his cheeks. "Gul'dan! What a thing to say!" he laughed, nevertheless pleased; after all, it had been only yesterday that this same orc had feared the worst because of a few thoughtless words said in a moment of frustration. "Still, I _am_ glad to see that you trust me to keep my word about our equality. It makes me happy to see you already so much more open, although it does make it more difficult to focus on my tasks."

Gul'dan gave Ner'zhul a devious smile. When someone gave him the little finger, he tended to want the whole hand; Ner'zhul had offered his entire body and heart. The temptation was hard to resist, but it would be worth it later when they had the whole evening to themselves. "Well, if you would like me to help you with this task, I am sure I would be able to behave myself."

"I trust you as you have managed that before," Ner'zhul said, still laughing a little.

Gul'dan nodded with a grin and went to get the shaving kit, knowing very well its location as helping Ner'zhul with his shaving had always been the easiest way to spend some time close to him. He knew how to be good. _"_ I _can behave myself,"_ he thought. _"Now let us see if he can do the same..."_

 

_ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a preview drawing for next chapter... or rather it was supposed to be an illustration for the shaving scene that was supposed to be in this chapter, but once again it's been ages since the last time I posted, and I just wanted to finally update and add a picture. It's funny how hard it is to make Gul'dan look like Gul'dan without the iconic hood and long beard. I'm going to need some practice with his face, but that's it for now.


	11. Shields Off

Technically keeping his word but still curious, Gul'dan ran his hands over Ner'zhul's head while waiting for the small cauldron of water to heat over the fire. He had never shaved his own head, and he had always thought the stubble looked rather interesting. Felt, too, now that he could properly put his hands on it. The hairs were long enough that they bent slightly under his touch. Gul'dan hooked his fingers a little and began to move them in a circular motion; after a moment of this, Ner'zhul's shoulders relaxed and fell a little. Gul'dan stored this reaction away in his collection of Ner'zhul-knowledge.

It felt a little unreal, he thought, how he had managed to achieve this. _He_ of all orcs, the only one after Rulkan, had somehow won Ner'zhul for himself. In this one thing there had been no need for carefully laid traps, no pleading or bargaining, not a single act of manipulation. Somehow he alone had been enough. A tender feeling washed over him, almost too hard to bear; he had promised to control himself, but in these last few days it had become rather...

All of a sudden Ner'zhul shivered as Gul'dan's fingers found their way behind his ears. Intrigued, Gul'dan brushed his fingertips over the clearly sensitive twin spots again. "I... I thought you were supposed to behave yourself," Ner'zhul chuckled, a good kind of tension returning to his shoulders.

"But I _am_. I am being a good apprentice." Gul'dan slowly moved his thumbs down the back of Ner'zhul's head, all the way to his neck, and was rewarded with more shivers. "I simply had no idea that you would react like this."

"I see that you have not stopped," Ner'zhul replied after a moment of this, sounding quite amused.

"Well, this is very fascinating."

Ner'zhul gave it some thought. "You sound as if you are studying me."

"Of course." Gul'dan glanced at the doorway. His hands went lower for a moment, squeezing the broad shoulders. He hesitated a moment, but decided to share some of his thoughts. "It is strange... I am male too, after all. Everything that you have, I have as well." His hands returned to Ner'zhul's head. "Yet every touch, every reaction is unexpected. Every... result takes me by surprise." His fingers moved. "Even this. We have done this before. I was not expecting everything to be this different."

"Well, you have not done that quite so intimately before..." There was a short silence that Gul'dan could not read. "...are you saying you cannot control yourself after all?"

Although Ner'zhul sounded playful, Gul'dan gave the question some serious thought. It led him astray. "I am a liar," he replied softly, telling the truth.

The abrupt gravity to Gul'dan's voice gave Ner'zhul pause. He raised a hand and touched Gul'dan's fingers; they stopped their movement, hesitating, and then briefly curled around Ner'zhul's before letting go as if they had touched a current.

"I think the water is ready," Gul'dan said and stood up with some reluctance, with some relief. He dipped his finger in the cauldron and found that he had been wrong, which led to an awkward wait by the table as the fire seemed to take its time with its job purely to torment him. It would be another kind of torment if he went back to Ner'zhul, his body unable to keep his secrets for him. His chieftain and master was not the only thing he had been studying: Gul'dan had, for once, spent some time analysing himself as well.

He had invited Ner'zhul into his body. He had remained in control, while Ner'zhul had been overcome with lust for him - and then Gul'dan had lost control in turn, just like he was losing it now. He thought he had been prepared for it this time, but there was something, always something, and once again he found himself scrambling for scraps of control in a situation where he should have felt perfectly safe.

Perhaps Ner'zhul would always have to need him more than he needed Ner'zhul.

Gul'dan wondered if this too was a bad way to think. He could see how easy it was for Ner'zhul to give his trust and love, and he certainly wanted to return the feelings just as easily. Unfortunately, giving of himself in equal measure was easier said than done, and somehow he still found himself pulling back at times. How was he going to tell Ner'zhul how unused he still was to a kind touch? How much it still sometimes frightened him? He remembered another gentle hand on his shoulder, just before he had left his village of birth for good, and remembered how at the time it had felt like an insult. How much kindness had to be poured into his wounds before they were finally filled?

And Ner'zhul watched him now, barely hiding his concern, but he waited patiently for Gul'dan to speak first. It was that open doorway, Gul'dan thought. That was the reason. They were equal when they were alone, but the rest of the clan was not shut out now from the warmth of their private moments. Gul'dan hesitated between making a quick excuse and speaking his mind; then he took a deep breath and decided to return Ner'zhul's trust.

"I feel as though anyone might step in at any moment," he said with a touch of nervousness. "I think... I worry that there are some who will not be happy about this."

"I can usually tell when someone approaches," Ner'zhul assured him. Of course, that was not enough to assure Ner'zhul himself. "Gul'dan, has someone given you reason to believe..." He paused, frowning. "Has someone been unkind to you?"

Gul'dan quickly shook his head. "No, but others always have their own expectations. Their own reservations. Some might feel that a chieftain should choose someone slightly more... someone slightly less like..." He stopped to think and let out a laugh. "...well, it is certainly good that we both are male. I worried about that too, at first; if you can be happy with a male or a female, then surely the elders would prefer you to choose the one which can give you heirs. But can you imagine the reactions if I could do that? The horror the clans would feel, waiting to see what sort of child someone like me might give to the leader of all shamans?"

"Gul'dan," Ner'zhul said with a touch of horror of his own, but he could not deny it. He knew very well the things orcs generally valued in a mate, and he would be lying to himself if he claimed that it was easy for others to see past Gul'dan's physical weaknesses, even in the Shadowmoon clan of mystics and star-gazers. He could feel however he liked about the matter, but it did not change the way things were. "I... I know. It is not right, but I know."

The water was ready. Already regretting his outburst now that it was out of his head, Gul'dan took the cauldron off the fire and reached in to take some of the water with a small bowl. He dropped a brush in the bowl and two towels in the cauldron. "In a way, I wish you did not know. You would not have to think of such things. I should not have said anything, either."

"You sound very protective." Ner'zhul could not help but smile. "You may not know this, but there were some who did not approve of Rulkan. She was no shaman, she held no position of authority; while few dared to protest to my face, it was clear that some had hoped for a 'worthier' mate for the shaman chieftain."

"But..." Gul'dan looked up from his task, puzzled. "She was not even flawed as I am."

"And that did not stop the jealous ones from being petty," Ner'zhul replied with a shrug. A thought occurred to him that made him grin. "And she too tried to shield me from the flaws of my people. I wonder why that is?"

Somewhat over his moment of grim sobriety now, Gul'dan actually felt a little abashed that he had presumed his master and chieftain to be so blind to the less than savoury thoughts of his clan; a good man he was, but clearly not to the point of ignorance. Gul'dan turned to stir the towels in the water to give himself some distraction from the rare feeling. "Well, if I am honest, I thought, since you are so loved by all, that you might not know..."

Ner'zhul waited a moment to see if Gul'dan would continue. He only took out the towels and wrung them. "Hmm. I understand."

"...I am sorry."

"Do not be." Ner'zhul watched Gul'dan gather the towels and the kit. It was almost amusing, really; they seemed to take these turns reassuring and comforting each other, always finding something new to feel guilty over. Of course, he would still take this one seriously... "To me, there was nothing more important than being loved by Rulkan. It was more important than my power, my position, even my clan. With her by my side I would have survived exile, even being cut from the ancestors, had it come to that, and you know how seriously I take all those things. To many orcs, this would be unthinkable."

This had Gul'dan's undivided attention, and Ner'zhul continued with earnest seriousness. "There are certain parts of my life that my duties are not allowed to touch. Certain things that my people may not ask of me. I did not tolerate any criticism of my choice in mate when it was Rulkan; whatever you are willing to be to me, the clan may not deny it. Not to me... nor to you."

Looking much more reassured and happy now, Gul'dan sat back and smiled. "Dear Ner'zhul," he said, quietly but clearly.

"Dear Gul'dan."

Had anyone come in right then, there would have been no doubt as to what sort of emotion drove the smile that Ner'zhul gave in return. And more importantly, the intruder would not have mattered. Their peace remained unbroken, however, and the moment between only the two of them. After some time of fighting the urge to take it a bit further, Gul'dan gave a sigh and picked up the towels again.

"As much as I would like to go and close the door again, we do have work to do after this." He took one towel and began to wrap it around Ner'zhul's head. "But perhaps, if you are not too tired, I could come visit you in the evening?"

This made Ner'zhul laugh. "I think I could be half dead, and I would still look forward to your visit. What did you have in mind?"

"Well..." Gul'dan carefully set the edge of the towel on Ner'zhul's brow. Personally Gul'dan quite liked the way Ner'zhul looked with eyebrows, but the older shaman preferred them shaved. Of course, it made painting the face less messy, and Gul'dan also liked the way Ner'zhul looked with certain masks... "I think I told you that I had hoped you would bend me over and..." He stopped to think and laughed a little lest he grimace instead. "...ah, I am not much of a seducer, am I."

Ner'zhul looked as though he did not understand the reason for Gul'dan's embarrassment. "Well, it worked on me."

"I am certainly lucky," Gul'dan sighed. "You know, I used to have excellent self-control around you."

"And that no longer is the case?"

Once again there was an undertone of amusement to Ner'zhul's voice. Gul'dan snorted, reaching for the shaving kit. "Pleased with your skill, are you? It seems hard to resist now that I have had a taste."

Ner'zhul took the offered second towel and tied it around his neck. "True... unless the first time is an utter disappointment, it does become hard for anyone to go without, once that step is taken. I should have warned you."

Both of them laughed. "You will have to stop distracting me this way once I start with the razor," Gul'dan warned. He attached the leather strop to the table with a small hook and quickly inspected the blade. "Hmm. It is good for one shave, but after this I will have to take it to Mokarg to be sharpened."

With a content sigh, Ner'zhul watched Gul'dan prepare the razor on the strop with sure, practised movements. He had such good hands. Reliable hands. "You are so good to me, Gul'dan. If any of us is lucky, it is definitely me."

As always, it was clear that Gul'dan was happy with being praised, but trying not to be too obvious about it. Sometimes Ner'zhul thought it a pity that open praise was frowned on in orkish societies - seasoned heroes, of course, were spoken of highly, but it was widely thought that young ones would become lazy and prideful if their efforts were lauded too much. While Ner'zhul could see that in some cases, Gul'dan was the perfect example of an orc who took strength from kind words and worked even harder to be worthy of them. The fact that he had had to fight at all for recognition in this world seemed like pure lunacy to Ner'zhul.

"I see the look in your eyes and repeat my warning about distracting me while I hold a razor," Gul'dan said, trying to sound stern and not quite succeeding due to happiness far too great to ignore. He poured the water from the bowl back into the cauldron, sternly, and dropped a piece of precious soap on the bottom of the bowl. It was nicer stuff than the soap orcs generally used, some only when absolutely necessary - and in some clans, apparently not at all.

Gul'dan thought of the Frostwolves he had seen in the Kosh'harg festivals of the past. Admirable people, but so dirty. Apart from their shamans, for whom cleansing the body was part of cleansing the spirit, Frostwolves did not seem to mind living in a constant state of grime. Gul'dan could certainly understand not needing to or not being able to wash themselves as often in the winter, but to live in such filth when the seasons changed? He remembered his days in the wilds, often too weak to approach any body of water large enough to bathe in for fear of being attacked by a predator. He remembered, with distaste and a touch of anger at the circumstances, the wretched state Ner'zhul had seen him in that day he had come to the valley. He never wanted to be that dirty again.

But this particular soap, Gul'dan remembered again, was more of a luxury than a comfort. The draenei made them, and he had traded a few pieces along with other goods from a draenei trader some time ago. Ner'zhul had raised an eyebrow - well, a bare brow at the time - but said nothing. Later he had admitted that it _had_ made a very nice lather, so Gul'dan had left it in Ner'zhul's shaving kit. He put the now soaked brush back in the bowl and began to make a thick foam with the water.

"I do like watching you in your tasks," Ner'zhul said with a smile. "You put so much care in everything you do."

"So do you," Gul'dan pointed out, but could not stop himself from grinning.

"Yet somehow the sight of my own hands does not fill me with a..."

"Ner'zhul," Gul'dan interrupted, laughing now but resolute. "As much as I like to hear you say these things, I really do not wish to cut you. The blade is very sharp, and I take a certain amount of pride in being able to handle it."

As always, Ner'zhul felt a great deal of pride for his apprentice as well, but he managed to refrain from making comments. "Very well," he merely conceded as he took the towel off his neck and raised his chin - and then Gul'dan began to apply the lather with deliberately careful movements to Ner'zhul's suddenly too sensitive neck, and he too had to admit that it had become very hard to go without this once he had started again. Grief had truly held him in a grip of iron to make him forget his body for so long, and Ner'zhul was still somewhat in disbelief of the fact that it had finally relented. He wondered if Gul'dan fully understood what a gift his entire existence was to him; but then the brush was followed by the razor, and Ner'zhul knew very well that making it clearer would have to wait a little.

"Very good of you to stop squirming, _master_ ," Gul'dan said casually, testing the limits of his power again. He gave one of his devious smiles that no one else was allowed to see when Ner'zhul could only roll his eyes in self-defence. The neck was quickly finished, and the short beard on Ner'zhul's chin did not need trimming yet. Gul'dan brushed the two braids fondly and straightened his back. "Head, then?"

"Odd..." Ner'zhul removed the still slightly warm towel and ran a hand over the now softer hair. "I thought you had trouble concentrating on this head."

"Are you using my own words against me? How nefarious, master," Gul'dan pretended to chide, not even trying to hide how pleased he was.

With a nod and a chuckle, Ner'zhul watched Gul'dan clean the razor and take it to the strop again. He enjoyed the playful way Gul'dan searched for his place in their changed relationship and wished they could have continued this all day. "What about you, Gul'dan? May I return this favour, or were you planning on growing a full beard?"

Gul'dan considered this, absent-mindedly pulling at his still short beard. He had not been growing it for a very long time. "I think I would like to let it grow long if I can. I always thought it would look good." He glanced at Ner'zhul, suddenly a little self-conscious. If it would not grow, he would only look ridiculous, trying and failing to make himself look more like a venerable orc. "What do you think?"

If Ner'zhul had known Gul'dan's thoughts in that moment, he would have been sympathetic but unable to comprehend them. All _he_ could see was an orc who was a loving and trustworthy presence in his life. The keen intellect in his hazel eyes, a beautiful colour that Ner'zhul was only allowed to lose himself in now that he could openly stare at Gul'dan; the perfect way his tusks curved just the right amount, the coarse and strong texture of his braided black hair, his warm and welcoming body. In fact, Ner'zhul found himself looking at so many attractive qualities that it took him some time to realise that the object of his affections had asked him a question.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. Gul'dan had such a deep voice. He knew that already, of course, but it was beginning to do strange things to his... "What do I think? You would look good with any amount of beard, I think."

Gul'dan watched him for a moment in silence, then nodded. "Thank you, Ner'zhul. It is a kind thing to say." Almost immediately he snorted and took a second to reconsider his words. "You'll have to forgive me if I react strangely to your compliments. I am not used to receiving them."

"You will get used to them," Ner'zhul assured him, still half in a daydream. "I cannot understand what the others are seeing or thinking to dismiss you so."

Fortunately, Gul'dan did not look as though he was going to protest, but he gave a sort of half-shrug and a confused smile. "I must admit I cannot understand what _you_ are seeing. We both know what orcs like."

Ner'zhul nodded. "Strength. To an orc, strength is beauty."

"Well, yes, but..."

"And look how much you have survived, how far you have brought yourself with your own power." Ner'zhul had observed this quality of Gul'dan's years ago. Now it had a different meaning to him. "To be perfectly honest, you must be the strongest orc I have ever known in my whole life."

The first meaning alone caught Gul'dan off-guard, and a flustered look fell on his face, as though he truly was at a loss as to what to do with such a great compliment. A few seconds later, the second meaning hit him hard, and blood rushed to his face so fast that it almost made him dizzy. "I... that's quite a..." He stopped trying to speak and wiped at his cheek as though that would drive the heat off it.

"Is that a _blush_ , Gul'dan?" Ner'zhul had the gall to ask, enjoying himself immensely.

"Please... please do not tease me." Gul'dan took a deep breath to calm himself down, noticed the forgotten razor still in his grip, and set it on the floor with a slightly unsteady hand. "What a thing to say, Ner'zhul!" Gul'dan could not seem to decide whether to laugh or simply continue being flustered. "Put the towel back on your head. If I put my hands on you now, I _will_ throw you on your back and _have_ you, open doorway or no."

"I would like that," Ner'zhul commented, but did as he was told. "But perhaps we will leave that sort of thing for later?"

Gul'dan had to laugh now, beginning to recover from such a wonderful shock. "Perhaps." He picked up the brush and the bowl to give his hands something to do. He had certainly tested his power and found their positions reversed; clearly Ner'zhul was still the master and he was the apprentice. Well, there was plenty of time to learn...

Gul'dan raised his eyes and found Ner'zhul looking back at him. Something in that smile made Gul'dan feel weak, but in an oddly pleasant way; after all, he had already trusted Ner'zhul with some of his weaknesses and still been called the strongest orc the older shaman had ever known. Returning the smile, Gul'dan silently decided to make the evening not about learning where he stood, but simply learning closeness. Happy with his decision, he began to work on the lather again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot has been delayed and replaced with sappy-happy fluff, because I finally looked into those Chronicle books and decided to order them before I deviate too much from the new canon. Some details below...
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>  
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> So far I know from Wowpedia that original Gul'dan now has the same early life as WoD Gul'dan. My headcanon was true for once, I see! Every time Christie Golden writes Gul'dan, that early neglect always comes through in some way, that Gul'dan is desperate for approval and recognition even from those he betrays. Of course, this means that the Gul'dan in this story has already visited the Throne of the Elements as well, only there was no Legion waiting for him there. Also, the fan theory for the location of Gul'dan's original village has been confirmed as canon, which is nice because I had already planned to use it. All in all, this works very well in this story - once I'm able to read the Chronicle books, I'll have to go through the earlier chapters and see if I need to edit anything. If there are any significant edits, I'll mention it in a note.


	12. Plans for the Future

"Too fast?" Gul'dan asked. It was in reply to something Ner'zhul had just asked: it certainly did not refer to the speed with which Gul'dan worked, as he took his time with the trickier area behind Ner'zhul's ear. Trying to be careful with the razor was only part of the reason, of course. This too was an old and familiar stalling tactic that had always allowed Gul'dan precious extra seconds with his master. Now his deliberately slow movements had a knowing quality to them that Ner'zhul was very aware of.

"Well, yes, I worry that I may be rushing this," Ner'zhul still managed despite the distraction. "I could not help but think..."

Gul'dan gave a soft laugh at this.

"No, I am not about to start berating myself again," Ner'zhul said quickly, but he too was amused. "It is simply that, well, we have experienced fairly different things in life and I am older than you," he explained. "I would not wish to push you into something for which you are not ready."

"I can tell you if I am uncomfortable," Gul'dan protested. "And what would you ask of me that I may not be ready for? If you recall, I have been quite ready for a long time now for us to be more than master and apprentice."

Ner'zhul was quiet for a moment. Gul'dan could see his hands fidget with a strap on his kilt. "I have been alone for years now," he began. He spoke slowly, searching for the right words. "Although I have endured it, I was not made for solitude. It has become very clear to me recently, and I have realised that I have for long missed you every moment you are gone. I have given it a lot of thought, and while it is far too early now, at some point in the future... if it is agreeable to you, of course, and we are ready for it... I would like to live with you by my side."

At first, Gul'dan's hands stopped moving. Then they began to tremble, so he raised them so as not to accidentally cut the scalp below. This... he had thought of this for a long time in his half-formed daydreams that had never quite dared to take shape, and now it was Ner'zhul who offered _this_? To Gul'dan, who had been rejected all his life? Perhaps it _was_ very sudden - as well as quite a lot to take in so soon - but the groundwork had certainly been laid long ago. It was just almost unbelievable that this much had already been built on it.

It occurred to Gul'dan that his silence and withdrawal could be interpreted as something negative when Ner'zhul turned to look at him with that worry again. There was a wound in there somewhere, Gul'dan thought. Perhaps one day Ner'zhul would trust Gul'dan with his hidden troubles in turn, and Gul'dan would be able to return at least a fraction of all the support he had received over these years. For now, he promptly forgot the open door, put the razor on the floor, and wrapped his arms around Ner'zhul's shoulders. He felt Ner'zhul begin to breathe again as he put a hand on Gul'dan's arm and realised, somewhat dizzyingly, that he too held a great deal of power over his master.

And as with the earth spirits back in the ancestral fields, he was still trying to come to terms with his first instinct not being to move in and take this power before it could slip from his grasp. He had hesitated in the fields, because he had lacked the despair of his younger days and actually thought of possible consequences. He refused now, because he had come to understand that power of this sort had to be treated responsibly. That he held Ner'zhul's heart as much as Ner'zhul held his, and to clutch it would crush it. There had once been a time when Gul'dan would have pressured Ner'zhul into what he was proposing as soon as possible, most likely leading to much suffering to them both; although it still pained Gul'dan to agree that it was far too early now, he knew that Ner'zhul was right. Gul'dan still had much to learn. Ner'zhul too, probably.

Of course, that didn't mean that Gul'dan couldn't return some of Ner'zhul's teasing...

"I knew you were an unsual orc, but this is very surprising," he murmured, setting his chin more comfortably on Ner'zhul's shoulder.

It took Ner'zhul a moment to reply. "What do you mean?" His voice was still a little shaky, and Gul'dan knew to be gentle with his teasing.

"You speak of waiting, when so many orcs make lifelong decisions after one single courting hunt. Your patience truly seems infinite," Gul'dan explained with a grin. He could feel very clearly how much courage it had taken Ner'zhul to ask this. More importantly, how much Ner'zhul trusted him to have asked it. "I take it that we will not be doing any of this in the traditional way?"

Ner'zhul considered this. "Would you like to?"

Gul'dan did the same. "...it is probably best not to. I am not much of a hunter, after all."

At last, a smile crossed Ner'zhul's face again after the serious moment. "Well, the courting hunt is good for young ones who wish to see how well they would work together. I have been thinking that we already know each other very well. We have already faced challenges and learned together." He ran his fingers along Gul'dan's arm, enjoying the closeness. "I know forming sensible unions is a good choice for many orcs, but I always thought I would rather be with someone I have known for a long time. Someone who is already close to me. It was that way with Rulkan as well." Ner'zhul sighed. "And I am afraid that I blurted out my proposal to her just as abruptly as I did to you. It seems that the years have not made that part any easier."

Gul'dan was silent for a while, feeling Ner'zhul's back expand and shrink under his chest. "And she became your mate..." It was a touch he had been ready for. It felt good and safe, and so he dared to ask his next question. "Do you think we will have her blessing?"

"I certainly hope so." Ner'zhul's fingers had stopped moving, seeking the strength of the arm over his chest. "I have already bound myself to you in thought and deed. Long before I even allowed myself to realise it. Blessings or no, there is no taking this back, nor do I wish it."

With a light nod, Gul'dan contemplated the possibility that he might cause Ner'zhul trouble simply by being with him. He knew very well that an orc who knew his role in the clan would gladly abandon his own happiness for greater good; Gul'dan hoped it would not come to that, for he was not such an orc. Once more he wondered what it would be like to be in a position where no one could question him and his choices, nor those of Ner'zhul. How free their life would be then, of doubt and fear and pain...

"You have had me for years, Ner'zhul." Gul'dan said slowly, still not completely sure how he wished to respond. "You can choose your mate freely. Yet, to wait..."

He fell quiet again, thinking. The Shadowmoon clan was different from all others. Some clans chose to take the coward's way of dealing with their weak ones and send them away, so as not to have to strike the killing blow themselves; Gul'dan's old clan had not suffered from such cowardice, but they _had_ tolerated weakness of body in their shaman. Gul'dan, however, had not been allowed to be a shaman there. He had had to be welcomed somewhere else to be able to do that. Nowhere else but in Shadowmoon Valley could Gul'dan thrive and accomplish. Here he did not need to be a warrior or a hunter, for the clan was large and prosperous and so could well afford its mystics and scholars.

In this clan, he ate the same food as everyone else, no longer digging for scraps when no one could see. Here the sight of him had inspired pity instead of rage and disgust - still hard to bear, but infinitely preferable to violence against which he could not shield himself. The healers had then worked hard on his body to make his life easier, and although he still was weaker than most, it was easier to move now. He walked to the holy places with his own feet, his back straight most of the time, without pain for several days at a time, and his nourished body was capable of so much more than he had ever dreamed of as a child. Perhaps this clan that had given him all this deserved...

Gul'dan sighed. He would not sacrifice his happiness for the greater good, but he could at least make an effort to give more back to this clan. He knew what it took.

"I have... seen how orcs treat those they do not consider their equals. Those they do not feel they have to respect." Gul'dan felt Ner'zhul's grasp tighten just a little on his arm. "It is hard to trust that they think differently of me now. Hard to believe that they might truly respect me and not merely pretend to do so because you protect me."

While Ner'zhul always did his best to let Gul'dan speak uninterrupted, he could not hold his tongue now. "Gul'dan... please believe me. I know my people, and I know that they think well of you. They will accept this."

"Even so..."

Even after all the kindness Gul'dan had received, he had never quite been able to forget the hatred in the eyes of his fellow orcs. Being spat on. Being hit and kicked and occasionally broken. And most of all, he had never been able to forget his mother's back when even she had turned it on him, unable to bear the shame of having birthed a cursed child. Rattled by the sudden memory, Gul'dan almost drew back before he remembered where he was and with whom. Still unable to speak his troubles aloud, he wrapped his arms tighter around Ner'zhul and waited for the moment to pass.

"Even so," he continued quietly, "I was alone for a long time, Ner'zhul, even when I was with my old clan. It made very much sense that I would remain alone in my new clan as well. In spirit... and in body." Despite his serious tone, Gul'dan smiled as Ner'zhul's arms rose to embrace his. He had expected it. "I always felt as though my life was meant to take different directions, always for the worse. As though nothing good would ultimately come of anything I do. And although that changed, I have found that the past is not as easily buried as I would like. Perhaps it _is_ good to wait..."

Gul'dan paused to wonder if he was lying again. After all, his patience was, in large part, a carefully constructed facade required by his shamanic life; he had always very much been the type to act first and regret later, also in things he had little or no experience with. Why, he only had to look at the way his and Ner'zhul's deeper relationship had begun and be relieved that it had not ended badly for him. Gul'dan quickly cleared his throat to distract himself from the thought.

"...after all, the chieftain's mate should not withdraw from the clan. If I am to live openly by your side, I must be able to act like a chieftain's mate." No, it was not a lie. Many things had changed already, but many more still remained. And for some odd reason, the thought gave Gul'dan a sense of comfort rather than intimidating him with the amount of work still ahead. "I am a shaman, after all; I must be able to serve my people."

Ner'zhul's chest expanded with the force of the relieved breath he drew. "And I must be able to better serve you. You have supported me for so long now."

Gul'dan laughed. "If you think you have given me nothing at all back during all these years, you are still berating yourself."

"I suppose it happens very easily," Ner'zhul admitted, laughing as well. "Forgive me."

"Of course I will. And now," said Gul'dan, pausing to kiss Ner'zhul's cheek before carefully pulling his arms back, "I must finish my task before someone is sent to see if you are still alive. You are very good at distracting me."

Ner'zhul snorted. "And I hear this from _you_..."

Somehow they were able to eventually stop this long enough for Gul'dan to finish the other side of Ner'zhul's head, although Gul'dan did sneak in an unnecessary caress every now and then, and Ner'zhul could not seem to stop giving Gul'dan compliments that made him go weak at the limbs. Gul'dan swore revenge, and Ner'zhul promised it to him - later that day, which might as well have been a week away.

"Would you also like to be helpful? Hold your hair," Gul'dan suggested with a grin. He had never seen himself as a particularly playful orc, but he supposed it was easy to be light-hearted with someone like Ner'zhul.

"Whatever you desire," said Ner'zhul, and the tone of his voice suggested so much more. However, a moment later he went still and seemed to listen to - or perhaps feel - something that was not there. He pulled his topknot away from the back of his head with a sigh and slightly bent his neck to make Gul'dan's work easier. "Well, someone _is_ approaching now. Apparently I took too much time for myself."

Once more aware of the open door, although at least not uncomfortably so, Gul'dan wanted to sigh as well. He had noticed the disappointment in Ner'zhul's voice. It occurred to him that there would be no need for all this secretiveness if he already was ready to be the chieftain's mate - not the most uplifting thought, but somehow it made him determined rather than sad. After all, he _had_ survived things that would have killed orcs with far stronger bodies. He _had_ come this far under his own power. He would gather his strength again, and all would know that Gul'dan was worthy.

"Think of the future," he murmured. "Our union will be _glorious_."

"Yes," Ner'zhul said, already sounding a bit happier. "I look forward to being worthy of you."

The reply took Gul'dan by surprise, but there was no time for questions; he could hear the footsteps as well, and a few moments later the doorway was filled by the figure of Elder Urnae. Her hair was grey, but she was still a strong warrior and well deserved her moniker of "Reaver" - and even she showed respect to Ner'zhul, bowing deep before entering the hut.

"No, don't bother," she said to Gul'dan as he moved to bow to his elder. "Just get him presentable as quickly as possible."

Not at all unhappy with this, Gul'dan nodded and returned to shaving the back of Ner'zhul's head.

"You seem serious, Elder," Ner'zhul noted. "What is it?"

Urnae turned her head and nodded at some unseen disturbance. "A visit from our neighbours, chieftain. It seems that Kargath of the Shattered Hand has decided that he wishes to work on clan relations all of a sudden."

"Kargath?" Ner'zhul began to turn his head to look at Urnae, but an alarmed sound from Gul'dan stopped him before he could be nicked by the blade. "Has he come himself?"

Urnae scoffed and shook her head. "We are not so fortunate. He did send a messenger who looked like he considered himself very important, though."

Ner'zhul gave it some thought. "I will dress appropriately."

"Well, don't wear your best. I'm not at all sure that they can appreciate it." Urnae turned to leave; she was still in her everyday clothes and clearly in a hurry to go change. "We will wait by the gate," she said and was gone.

"Wait a moment, Ner'zhul." Already finished with the shaving, Gul'dan stood and went to find the accessories Ner'zhul would tie to his hair and beard; being quite familiar with his master's hut, he soon had everything he needed and returned to the pelt Ner'zhul sat on. Gul'dan took Ner'zhul's topknot and retied it with a long, wide strap made of shimmering dark leather, only used with important guests. When that was done, he began to add various finely carved bone decorations.

Meanwhile Ner'zhul began to put on his necklaces and earrings. "Kargath..." he muttered. The Shattered Hand chieftain's story was well known and widely understood to be the reason for his violent nature. It was hard to imagine an orc who could have wanted less to do with the largely peaceful Shadowmoon clan. "What do you make of him, Gul'dan?"

Gul'dan was silent for a moment. He untied Ner'zhul's beard braids and began to braid them again, adding bone decorations as he did. How did he see Kargath Bladefist? He had seen the chieftain during some Kosh'hargs and listened to him talk. Kargath had been quite proud of his story and left little to the imagination. Gul'dan thought he had a very good idea what sort of orc he was.

"I think he is a man shaped entirely by his scars." And he thought to himself, saving the observation for possible later use: _Take them away, and he will either fall apart or become even more dangerous._

"See if the messenger has a blade hand. The ones that followed Kargath out of the slave pits are probably more or less the same, and he leads because he is the most vicious of them. They owe their freedom to that fact, that someone was desperate and furious enough to sever his own hand first. As a fellow chieftain, you must absolutely not let him see any weakness or softness in you, for he only respects similar strength - or similar despair." Gul'dan looked up. Ner'zhul's eyes were on him; he was clearly listening carefully. Taking Gul'dan seriously. A warm feeling spread throughout Gul'dan's body, and he gave a smile that managed to be both ruthless and loving. "They think us weak. They will try to disturb you. Be firm and strong before the messenger, even if you agree with what he proposes. You lead the Shadowmoon clan and the shamans, and there is no one in this world who may look down on you."

Ner'zhul sat a while in thought, taking it in. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth; he nodded and leaned down to kiss Gul'dan. "Nor may anyone look down on you," he said as he straightened his back. "Thank you, Gul'dan. My thoughts feel much clearer."

Done with the decorations, they stood up. Ner'zhul went to take out one of his better kilts, which Gul'dan then helped him put on; it was quite a bit more intricate than the simpler clothes he liked to wear. Watching Gul'dan's hands as the worked with the straps, Ner'zhul felt that he had perhaps still left some important things unsaid. "Gul'dan?"

"Yes?"

"Are you truly satisfied with what we agreed?" Ner'zhul asked. "That we should wait?"

Gul'dan glanced up. "It is a little unusual, but in our case I see it as a wise choice. We should become accustomed to these changes before making permanent arrangements." He grinned. "What a sensible way of describing it. I think you would prefer more romantic words."

Ner'zhul smiled. "You would be right." He looked around the hut, trying to imagine what it would look like after Gul'dan moved in. He already spent much of his time here, but then he would bring all his things with him...

"Besides, I think there are others who would benefit from doing it this way," Gul'dan continued. "The courting hunt is not always the most reliable method of choosing a mate." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "Especially when _some_ people only think of passing the hunt and not looking at the results."

"...ah. Yes."

Ner'zhul knew very well what Gul'dan what referring to, for the story had spread throughout Shaz'gul through every fault of the young couple involved. Dol'mak and Kral'za had spent their courting hunt doing more bickering than hunting, yet in the end they had decided to become mates anyway, reasoning that opposites attracted and that married bliss would soothe all resentment. That had lasted all of six months, which thankfully had not been enough to produce any children to suffer because of the couple's bad relationship. There was a very good reason they had not tried very hard to conceive.

"They ignored all the signs, and now I know more about how incompatible they were as lovers than I ever wished to know." Gul'dan grimaced. All knowledge of all people was valuable, but still... "Which is not at all."

"Well," Ner'zhul said placatingly despite rather agreeing with this, "they _were_ able to make one important decision as one..."

"Ah yes, settling in huts on the opposite ends of the village." Gul'dan chuckled. "This is one of the things I like about you, Ner'zhul. You always try to find some good in everyone. I should be grateful."

"What's this? Are _you_ berating yourself now?" Ner'zhul could not help but laugh a little at this.

"Never, dear Ner'zhul. That will remain your duty and joy. And now..." Gul'dan finished tying the last of the straps, giving Ner'zhul's outfit an approving nod. "...you are ready."

"Thank you." Running a hand over his apprentice's work, Ner'zhul thought of one last thing. "Gul'dan..."

"...yes?"

"You are aware that should you ever change your mind about any of this..." The thought took its time becoming words. It was a painful one, but Ner'zhul could not show it. This was more important than his feelings. "...well, that you are allowed to reject me? Even though I am your chieftain."

Such a thing had not even occurred to Gul'dan, but somehow he liked hearing this. What was this thought at the back of his mind..? He nodded slowly, and a smile formed on his lips. "I do not think I will. But thank you." With a great deal of reluctance, he turned to go pick the razor. "I will take this to Mokarg." He glanced back at Ner'zhul, still smiling. "Let the messenger see your strength."

The smile Ner'zhul gave in return seemed to light the entire hut. "I will. And I will see you in the evening."

Gul'dan had to reply with only a nod and a grin, for else he might have been tempted to stall even longer. Clutching the box that held the razor, he walked out and headed straight for his own hut, running a list of things that needed to be done through his head. He felt oddly distracted. He needed to pick up some tools before heading to the blacksmith's, then drop off the razor, perhaps buy some paints, then...

...then some paints, and...

Gul'dan paused in his thoughts, walking slower, and stroked the surface of the box with his thumb. He remembered thinking of the Spirit of Water and how strange it was that the less Ner'zhul asked for, the more willing the elements were to give. With a blink, Gul'dan finally saw the parallel. Ner'zhul demanded nothing of him.

And Gul'dan was always happy to give.

Blinking again, more rapidly this time, Gul'dan tried to make sense of why it moved him so. He glanced back at Ner'zhul's hut, but soon forced himself to face ahead and continue his plan for the day. He was a shaman; this was the time for him to serve his people.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFFFFFINALLY. I've been super busy at work, but here's the chapter! In fact, I've been too busy to finish reading all the way through the second Chronicle, but of course I've been looking at all the Gul'dan stuff already. Weird how I was happy to make up my own background for him when we knew nothing of original Gul'dan's early life, but now that we know it, I'm trying to stick to the new canon. A bit unhappily at times. 
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> ***SPOILERS MAYBE***
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> I'm so confused with the timeline now. A draenei called Heidii said as recently as Warlords of Draenor that the Shadowmoon clan has lived peacefully with the draenei "for many centuries", but now the draenei have been on Draenor for only 200 years Before the Dark Portal? The Rise of the Horde clearly says that Gul'dan has been with Ner'zhul for many years and will be his successor, and now he's been exiled from his clan only 10 years Before the Dark Portal? How does that even leave him time to do any... well, he returned to burn his village in the year -8 and apparently managed to become the legendary Shadowmoon chieftain's apprentice super quick - as an outsider, no less. I mean, I'm very happy with all the descriptions of his life (finally it's acknowledged that orkish culture can absolutely destroy its own people), but I don't understand why the entire timeline of Draenor has to be so condensed now. I said I'd work with any new canon, but this is just weird and I'm unsure. Well, it's an AU...
> 
> ...haha, Gul'dan really IS a fairly young orc who just lifetapped too much and turned into an old man. That explains why he thought it would be cool and edgy to call himself "Darkness Incarnate" and "Destroyer of Dreams". I love him even more now :D


	13. Stopping to Scheme on the Way to Work

Rummaging through his belongings in search of his set of carving tools, Gul'dan had found the knife he had had during his wandering days. Much like the associated memories, he had tried to hide it without really admitting to himself that he was hiding it, only to come across it when he least expected it. Gul'dan inspected the crude tool with a half distasteful, half fascinated frown. He had made it himself out of a wooden shaft and a sharp, flat rock he had found, proving that at least in this he was a proper orc. He did not know how he had ever thought that he could kill that talbuk with this, however. He _had_ been a little delirious by that time, yes, but such foolishness...

Or such despair. Gul'dan put the blade back where he had found it and quickly turned his eyes away; clearly this was not the place where he had left his carving tools, and the knife was bringing back things that he was not quite ready to forgive himself for. Perhaps he would be one day soon. Perhaps that was one of the things he should deal with before he was ready to be the chieftain's mate. It occurred to him that he had no idea whether orcs generally burdened their mates with all their troubles or whether they were expected to solve the worst of it alone. Surely there would be variation in individuals, but most orcs valued strength, so perhaps the latter was seen as something a strong orc would do?

_"...the strongest orc I have ever known..."_

Heat rose to Gul'dan's face once again as he thought of all the sweet and encouraging things Ner'zhul had said to him recently. Gul'dan still had plenty of weaknesses, yes, but he had his strengths as well. He knew they were enough to forge him into a good mate. What he did not know was how Ner'zhul could think that _he_ was not yet ready to be a good mate. Even if Gul'dan had been born and treated just like any other orc, he would probably still have received the best treatment and the most respect in his life from Ner'zhul, whose kindness and faith in his apprentice seemed endless. It had always made Gul'dan hunger for more, to push himself harder to be even worthier of that intoxicating praise that never tasted as sweet coming from someone else.

And then again, surely even Ner'zhul's great patience had to have its limits if the one who received it only took and took without any improvement in sight. Although Gul'dan seemed to have some trouble finding his tools now, he was far from disorganised; he knew he had a lot of improvements to work on, and his mind was already starting to make plans for just that. Gul'dan was not going to be just anyone's mate, after all, and Gul'dan himself was not just anyone. Rulkan, yes, had been enough as just Rulkan. Gul'dan was Ner'zhul's apprentice, and it would not look good if he did not live up to his great potential under such a great master. To that end, he would have to...

Gul'dan paused in his search, feeling that unsettling cold lump in his stomach that formed every time he thought of this. Indeed, he would have to realise his full potential. He had always shown great skill in the language of the stars that the Shadowmoon clan spoke - and noticed some things about it that he would one day have to discuss with Ner'zhul - but a great shaman would have to be fluent in the language of the earth as well. He could not remain a simple village shaman content to commune with ancestors and minor spirits, nor did he wish that. But to form a deeper connection with the great furies, he would have to brave that place again, and the thought of possibly failing again filled him with dread. If the wilds had broken him, that final rejection at the Throne of the Elements had all but shattered him. That silence of the elements within the stone circle... the stunning, destroying knowledge that the journey alone had almost killed him, and he could either lie down and die in that silence or set out once again in the unknown world with no better guarantee of survival. Never in his empty life had Gul'dan felt such a cold absence of hope as he had in that place. It had taken him years to put those pieces back together again.

_...the strongest orc I have ever known in my whole life. A rare gift._

But... against all odds, he _had_ survived. Unable to walk, unable to hunt, he had lived and built himself a new life far away from his past. He had become whole enough to begin shaping his pieces into something better. He was ambitious and determined and _strong_ , and he would do this for the orc who had made all of this possible and had never stopped believing in him. He would do it for himself as well, for his own power and peace of mind.

As for the great furies of Nagrand... perhaps for them as well, if he could forgive them. The thought was not an appealing one. He would have to think of some way to convince them to accept him this time without showing his bitterness. Last time they had gazed into him and seen that he had been sour at heart; while Gul'dan was not sure that he was all that different now, he would somehow have to be able to at least pretend. Quite a task he had ahead, quite a lot of planning and researching.

Ah, and there was his set of carving tools right under some scrolls he had moved around yesterday. He looked them over to make sure that everything was in order, at least in the set if not in his hut; satisfied that he had everything he needed, Gul'dan stepped out and began to make his way to the armoury. It would take him a moment. While he liked the privacy of living farther away from the bustle of the village centre, it did make for some long walking distances sometimes, and his hip was starting to remind him of the time that had passed since his last visit to the healers. Gul'dan grimaced - not out of pain or discomfort, not yet, but the thought of once again having to display his infirmities before older and more experienced shamans. Well, no matter. One day he would be powerful enough to heal himself. He would just have to endure this a little longer. Perhaps he might even ask Ner'zhul now - the older shaman had offered his healing skills before, but as experienced as Gul'dan was at concealing his true self, there was one part of his body he had been unable to trust not to reveal his feelings if he had allowed Ner'zhul to touch his bare skin.

Gul'dan had to wipe a smitten grin off his face before anyone could see it. Not having to hide that from Ner'zhul anymore had to be the best feeling in his entire life so far. He would have to show Ner'zhul just how happy it made him later. It was really rather incredible how quickly everything had changed in such a short time. The night had always been his time to think of things and solve problems, but being alone with his thoughts also meant fewer distractions from the things he did not want to think of - his almost desperate longing and only vague ideas of what to do about it, for one thing. Now he had something to look forward to at night.

He was passing one of the more densely populated areas just before the first shops when his thoughts were interrupted by two familiar sounds coming from somewhere between the huts. One was Keli'dan - that's right, he lived somewhere around here, didn't he? - and the other one had to be one of the young shaman's friends. A thought came to Gul'dan all of a sudden, mixing with his earlier planning, and he stopped by to pretend that he was going through his tools so he could listen. Yes, that was definitely Teron'gor. Another capable young shaman, though perhaps not reaching his full potential - rather like Gul'dan, then. The two were discussing the carving of sentry totems they had been assigned earlier that week. Just practice at this point, but Gul'dan was glad to hear that they were clearly taking the valley's security quite seriously. While Shadowmoon Valley was a fairly safe place to live in this savage world, there was always the possibility that ogres might try to invade through Talador, or there might be trouble from the arakkoa of the Spires of Arak. The Bladewind clan was small and probably too preoccupied with their ridiculous little attacks on lightly armed draenei caravans to send news if anything happened in Talador. As for Spires of Arak... well, Ner'zhul would know more about the situation there after meeting with the Shattered Hand messenger. Gul'dan truly wished he could be there as well, but he was not counted among the elders yet. When he became the chieftain's mate, however, then it would be a different story...

Gul'dan blinked as his thoughts snapped back to the reason he had stopped here in the first place, and his plan neatly assembled itself in his mind. He wished to be Ner'zhul's mate, but he had to be ready for it in many ways, succeeding at the Throne of the Elements being one of his most daunting aspirations. Why not conquer a lesser but similar goal first? It was rather amusing; he had _just_ thought that he didn't want the company of his peers making his position in the clan more complex, but things truly had changed very quickly, and he already had an idea for what to do next. Gul'dan was always slightly uneasy around his peers, yes? It had made sense before, of course: in his old clan it had been as though he had somehow reflected badly on his entire generation when others grew tall and strong and he remained ever the same. It was only natural that there had been a healthy, at times even life-saving distance. Later, in the nurturing environment of the Shadowmoon clan, he had studied the difference between weakness and trust and come to the conclusion that true trust was something that took a tremendous amount of strength to achieve. Considering his people and the distance he still maintained, Gul'dan had silently admitted to himself that he was not quite as strong as he would have liked. He had always thought it better to build his own power instead so that he would not have to trust anyone else, but now...

But wasn't the trust between orcs slightly similar to the relationship between a shaman and the elemental spirits? Both meant having the ability to reveal one's inner self, to hand a weapon to an outside force and trust that it would never be used. It was strength because if the weapon _was_ used, one would be hurt but not shattered. That was precisely Gul'dan's weakness, having to rely on walls and always sharpening his own weapons because his core was vulnerable. A truly powerful shaman would not have to live in such fear of the pain of betrayal. If Gul'dan could take this step closer to that goal, he would then be one step closer to the Throne of the Elements. This simple step.

Gul'dan, despite knowing what a rational and wise decision this was, hesitated. So far he had been able to fool lesser spirits and the orcs he kept at an arm's length. Perhaps he would be able to fool the great elements if he could fool those he was planning on letting close. Clos _er_. Just a little. Turning his head to the sound of the still ongoing discussion, he lost a bit of his resolve as he wondered how far he would have to go before he was enough as simply himself.

Well, he would just have to see.  His plan was simple and ready, and so he began to make his way to the  other orcs to put it to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I had enough time to post some orc stuff before October ends. Happy Orctober!


	14. Sighting

Ner'zhul could tell that Kargath's messenger would normally have made for an imposing sight. He was tall and wide and clearly deadly, as attested by his many scars from battles won. His greatest scar proved that he had also won his battle for freedom; the wrist that had once been shackled to his ogre masters' dungeon now ended in a scythe that had doubtlessly drunk deep of the blood of his tormentors. Now, however, the former gladiator stood hunched and humble before the elders of the Shadowmoon clan. The three other warriors who had accompanied him out of the Spires of Arak had already relinquished their weapons, as was proper when entering the heart of another clan's territory. Now they made a great show of chaining the messenger's blade hand behind his back to disarm him, and the wounded warrior flinched. 

It occurred to Ner'zhul that Gul'dan would be immediately suspicious of such a display of pained humility. Ner'zhul was not naive, but he had to admit that his soft heart and peaceful life in the valley had sometimes left him vulnerable to manipulation he had been unable to see. Orcs generally did not lie, no, but whether on purpose or unwittingly, some did. The years of catching fragments from his apprentice's troubled past had allowed Ner'zhul to piece together an uncomfortable truth: as all orcs were not born equal, sometimes duplicity and manipulation became the only way for them to survive. He could only imagine what it was like in ogre lords' dungeons without a clan to provide structure and history to the enslaved orcs. They probably felt very out of place in a situation like this, unable to rely on the strength and ruthlessness that had freed them from their masters, and yet Ner'zhul had to be prepared to harden his heart against them.

Now, searching the chained gladiator before him for signs of disingenuity, Ner'zhul wished he could have had Gul'dan by his side. His hard-earned knowledge would temper his chieftain's trust when it was too easily won. Ner'zhul would ease Gul'dan's distrust in turn when it was not needed, and they would both be stronger for it. _In the future_ , Ner'zhul thought, stifling a smile.

"Let us speak in the meeting hall," he said to the messenger, nodding at the three warriors with him as well.

If people had been mildly curious about the meeting of elders earlier, there was now quite a lot of open staring and even worry. Two meetings in one day was highly unusual. When the other obviously concerned clan relations, it was most likely a sign of something serious. The messenger seemed to take some barely suppressed delight in the reactions, and Ner'zhul wondered if he would have even seen that glint in his eyes before Gul'dan had taught him to look.

"My name is Shulrok," said the messenger as he sat down in the guest's place. His companions took a place farther away from him, silently identifying themselves as mere bodyguards. In the presence of the chieftain, there was no sign of the perceived arrogance Urnae had mentioned, which in itself was something that did not speak well of the messenger; clearly he was capable of showing respect, but only when he chose so. "I am here on behalf of my chieftain Kargath Bladefist."

That much was obvious to anyone who knew anything of the major clans, but even if the elders felt slightly impatient, they were also fairly impressed that Shulrok was showing _some_ decorum. Ner'zhul gave him a polite nod. "What does Kargath wish to say?"

"Two things," said the messenger, already rolling the shoulder of the arm that had been tied behind his back. "The first concerns the coming Kosh'harg."

There was an expected pause when three junior shamans came in to bring the guests food and drink. The bodyguards did not touch theirs until Shulrok had taken the first bite, but after that ate as hungrily as they possibly could while observing basic manners. Elder Ku'targ thanked the shamans silently with a nod, adding a warning glare when it looked as though they were taking their time leaving the meeting hall. Although Ner'zhul said nothing, he was pleased by their curiosity. They deserved to know what was going on in their clan and would hear it from him later.

"Please continue," he said to Shulrok when the young ones were gone.

"As you know, we have made our clan's home in the Spires of Arak." There was something awkward about the way the messenger held his cup, as though he had never really learned to use his hands properly for anything but killing. "It is our understanding that your clan has occasionally passed through the Spires on your way to Nagrand."

Ah. Territorial matters now, perhaps? "We have," Ner'zhul confirmed. _When the arakkoa have not troubled us_ , he thought but kept to himself, remembering Gul'dan's words about the only kind of strength the Shattered Hand respected. More warlike clans would walk wherever they wished, heedless of any disruptions they might cause to those who lived in the places they trampled.

Shulrok nodded. "Then I will get straight to my message. My chieftain wishes to know if your clan would be willing to travel with ours this spring."

This was absolutely not what Ner'zhul had expected. He could practically feel the surprised confusion roll off the other elders as well. "Oh yes?" was all he said, preferring not to ask questions if the messenger would provide answers first.

Shulrok sat a moment in silence, tasting his drink. "It is not about the arakkoa," he finally said, eyes focused on Ner'zhul. "It actually brings me to the second thing my chieftain wishes to know." He waited silently until another nod from Ner'zhul permitted him to continue. "You may know also that the spiritual practices of our people are somewhat... _lacking_ , compared to those of yours. Many of us were cut off from our original clans and do not practise shamanism. For that reason, we mainly trust our own strength rather than rely on that of visions and ancestors who can no longer hold a weapon."

Someone shifted behind Ner'zhul. It was an uncomfortable sound. Uldakor had once muttered that he would not put it above some Shattered Hand orcs to try to stab the spirits of their own ancestors if they could, and his sentiment hung above the meeting now. Shulrok seemed to realise that he had already slipped, but his way of trying to deal with it seemed to be trying to stare down the chieftain. He really hadn't lasted long.

"There have been signs lately that we have been able to see," he explained, still doing his best to at least sound respectful. "Not visions - they look like they can be bled and slain like any creature of flesh, but we do not understand them."

Ner'zhul stared back at the messenger now, serene as ever but watchful. "Do these creatures resemble spirits in any way? Some spirits, under certain circumstances, can appear even to those who do not walk that path."

"No..." Some sort of discomfort flitted briefly in Shulrok's eyes, but he quickly frowned it away. He seemed to be speaking as himself now rather than as his chieftain's messenger. "I saw one of them myself. A great creature, a flying creature... its wings moved the branches as it flew between the trees."

"What kind of flying creature? A rylak?" Go'vid asked before Ner'zhul had the chance.

Shulrok shook his head. Notably, his eyes still hadn't left Ner'zhul's. "Not a rylak. Not even a bird. I have never seen its like before - it was covered in scales like a fish." He frowned deeper, suppressing a shudder. "I went after it into a place where it should have been trapped by the trees and the mountain. I know that place. Nothing that huge could get out without being seen." His trapped shoulder stiffened. "But it was gone."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to write a lot of new chapters for all my multi-chapter fics as part of this year's Nanowrimo, and guess what I got? Yep, big November project at work. Well, here's at least a short plot update.


	15. Fanart Interlude: The Elements Approach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit 100 kudos recently, so I figured I'd draw something for my WIPs! This is not an illustration of any planned scene since Gul'dan can't have his teacher with him when he goes to the Throne of the Elements, but it's sort of symbolic. Anyway, I drew Gul'dan with the scar this time, but his left tusk is still intact since canon Gul'dan seems to have broken it somewhere between having destroyed his old village and going full fel. His face turned out much better this time, I think.
> 
> I'm also still figuring out what size is good for embedded images, so let me know if this breaks anything!


	16. Mutual

"I am just not as good at this as I would like. Look at my carving. Very uneven."

"Does it matter as long as the totem does its job? This is a tool, not a work of art."

"Well, perhaps _your_ ancestors do not care about such details, but I know what my great-grandfather would say if I showed him this... _this_!"

"Your great-grandfather was an artist, not a spiritualist."

"I am allowed to care about the opinions of my great-grandfather even if his path was different from mine!"

Gul'dan's eyebrows were raised by the time he could see Keli'dan and Teron'gor. Not only was this change in the tone of their conversation rather sudden, the tone itself was... unexpected, to say the least. Teron'gor had a suffering look on his face, and Keli'dan was quite open about showing him how displeased he was with this attitude. Gul'dan had never seen either of them like this before.

"It is a tool," Teron'gor repeated, jabbing a blue-stained finger at his friend's still unpainted totem. "It does a job. Just finish carving it so you can finally paint it."

"If the details do not matter, why bother even carving it?" Keli'dan went on, and Gul'dan paid close attention to how upset this was making him. "Why not simply enchant a block of wood and not bother with any of this."

Teron'gor grunted with some open annoyance now. "The general shape attracts spirits. The enchanted paint attracts spirits. The smoothness of the grooves does _not_ attract spirits. You think too much of what your ancestors would say when none of them were shamans. One of them even keeps telling you to become a hunter instead, as though one could ignore the call!"

It seemed obvious to Gul'dan that it was precisely because of his unusually non-spiritual ancestors that Keli'dan might have some trouble with his different path, but neither of the other two orcs acknowledged it. Keli'dan merely shrugged in a way he was trying too hard to make look casual and poked at his totem. "It has splinters."

"Splinters!" Teron'gor put down his brush with far more force than was necessary. "What of splinters? No one is going to touch a sentry totem, because its job is to sit in one place undetected! Who is going to get splinters from it?"

"I might, as I carry it to its hiding place."

"Keli'dan, listen to..."

Suddenly the two froze to actually listen as Gul'dan walked closer, the light clatter of the bone carvings on his belt announcing his approach. The look on their faces reminded him of the panicked stare of a prey animal that felt the beginnings of a shamanic earthquake spell under its hooves, and why not; some more experienced shamans were very strict, always expecting their students to be aware of their surroundings and to conduct themselves accordingly. Keli'dan had whined about his work and Teron'gor had spoken critically of ancestors. How would master Gul'dan react?

"Keli'dan. Teron'gor." He nodded at the two, trying his best to hide just how amusing he found all this. If only they knew they had no reason to fear his reaction: there was plenty of space in Gul'dan's belief system for criticising ancestors who deserved it, even if it had to be done in secret, and he found nothing wrong in wanting to put a personal touch on one's own work. To think that Gul'dan had been so nervous about approaching his peers, and here he had caught them in an even more vulnerable state of mind! He could certainly work with this.

"Master Gul'dan," Teron'gor said clearly and respectfully, but his voice was quiet.

"I see you two have been working on your assignments. Wonderful."

Keli'dan looked down at his very obviously unfinished totem, trying to work out if he was being mocked. "Tha... thank you, master Gul'dan."

"How do you find your task?" Gul'dan enquired, voice smooth and friendly. He had to remind himself to be genuinely friendly; the temptation to relish this power he had over others was hard to resist.

"I..." Teron'gor picked up his brush again, but did not resume his work. "...I find it educating and fulfilling. We have learned much about making shamanic tools lately."

The look on Keli'dan's face told Gul'dan that he hadn't learned quite as much as his friend. "We are blessed to serve," Keli'dan nevertheless offered with some conviction.

Gul'dan was not convinced; so said all who found themselves with little else to say. Still, it made for a good point to build upon. "Our valley is blessed too, having so many talented young shamans. Its borders will remain well guarded." He spoke with authority and sincerity and was satisfied to see the effect his words had on the other orcs.

"We do everything in our power to serve the clan," said Teron'gor, looking much happier with this rare praise but still mildly cautious.

With a nod, Gul'dan lowered himself on one knee to inspect the totems. It ached a little as it touched the ground. "It must be difficult for you to find your own style when so many expect so much of you."

Keli'dan and Teron'gor shared a quick look. "I meant no disrespect to the ancestors," Teron'gor said, quiet again.

"I did not see it as such." Gul'dan's words were not empty flattery; even before kneeling, he had been able to see how skilled the two were. Now that he was taking a closer look, he just had to smile a little at all the details he saw. "Quite an artistic touch, Teron'gor, even though you say it is but a tool."

Teron'gor dodged a sharp look from Keli'dan.

"Yes," Keli'dan muttered sourly. "He _is_ quite good with his brush, isn't he?"

Although Teron'gor still looked a little unsure about this relaxed turn in the conversation, he glanced around and gave in. "I am certainly better than you with your carving tools."

"You little..." Remembering himself at the last moment, Keli'dan swallowed the insult before it passed his lips. "My apologies, master Gul'dan, but we have had this conversation many times before."

Gul'dan nodded kindly. "It sounded like it." This conversation, however, had already been very successful. The other two orcs had already begun to act more like equals than students in Gul'dan's presence, and he hadn't even had to offer anything of himself in return yet. "I found it interesting, because I am doing some carving work of my own today. There is still much for me to learn as well." That last thing was not quite true, but a little humility never hurt when speaking to a fellow shaman.

"Oh?" Keli'dan gave his friend another glance, this one tentatively hopeful. Teron'gor returned it even more tentatively. "Then, perhaps..."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps we could watch you as you work and learn more that way?" Although he spoke as openly as ever, all of a sudden Keli'dan seemed just as nervous as Teron'gor. "I... I know I should ask my master first, but I fear I have disappointed her too many times."

Something very much like sympathy twisted in Gul'dan's chest, and he knew that Ner'zhul had been right: he did, to an extent, understand Keli'dan. He could not quite decide how he felt about it. "Of course," he said, voice gentler than he had intended, but no matter. This budding, seeming rapport was what he had been aiming at. In fact, this show of vulnerability was more than what he had expected from this encounter.

He could see plenty of gratitude now in the looks he was given: open from Keli'dan, slightly more reserved from Teron'gor. The nascent sympathy faltered all of a sudden as a bitterer part of Gul'dan reminded him that those would be quite different looks if he didn't have his power and status. He forced himself to respond with a benevolent smile, but once again he felt a twitch of longing for something more stable for himself - a power, something, anything, that would be his alone and not dependent on the whims of more powerful creatures. Something he could rely on, always...

...but he had not come here to be bitter. He had a goal. He always worked hard for his goals. "Well then," he said, standing up with some caution, waiting to see if his knee would ache again. It didn't. "If you have the time now, I was on my way to the blacksmith. The spears should be ready by now."

Keli'dan and Teron'gor readily stood up as well, putting their totems and tools away before following Gul'dan. It was a fairly short walk to the armoury by now, and the two friends took the opportunity to chat a little about the things they would do later that day. Gul'dan offered little in the way of conversation, but he heard and remembered every word, nodding every now and then to show that he was paying attention and taking part. It seemed to be enough for his... well, what were they to him right now? Students? Temporary companions? It bothered Gul'dan that he couldn't tell.

Fortunately, their arrival at their destination gave him something easier to think about. The head blacksmith was very happy to let Gul'dan teach the next shaman generation while working. Her apprentices had already prepared a space for this, and now they brought forth the new hunting spears, splendid as always, while Teron'gor and Keli'dan awaited their lesson with barely disguised anticipation.

As Gul'dan began his enchanting work, he had to admit that he truly was far ahead of his peers in skill, even if it never seemed enough for him; his task today was routine to him, but Keli'dan and Teron'gor were obviously impressed by the ease with which he called for the spirits of the ancestors to lend their power so that these spears might help feed their descendants. Gul'dan had been given small vials filled with the blood of the hunters who would wield the spears. He carved intricate symbols into the shafts, and the blood he poured into them glowed briefly with the strength of his spells, binding the weapons to the hunters. When Keli'dan and Teron'gor asked questions between the spears, he answered them like a teacher, a little distant but respectful and with the genuine will to share his skills. While he was preparing another spear, he did his best to speak more like an equal, letting the other two orcs lead so he could learn from them in turn - short conversations, seemingly nothing significant, yet somehow so important.

"Magnificent, master Gul'dan," Teron'gor murmured as he watched the blood cool on the last spear. From most other young orcs it would have sounded like suspicious flattery, but Teron'gor was not known for such things.

Gul'dan wasn't sure whether it made this harder or easier. "The ancestors willed it," he said, suddenly tired in a way he had not expected. He had worked for close to two hours by now, but it was this attempt to bring himself closer to other orcs that had finally exhausted him. He was accustomed to completely hiding himself, not this strange dance of distance and warmth that he hadn't mastered at all - this combination of friendly words that made him wish for something he did not have while constantly being alert for possible hidden threats. From Ner'zhul, yes, he could not get enough of closeness, but Ner'zhul had proved his trustworthiness years ago. With other orcs, there was still much work ahead.

And he could do it. He just needed some time to rest for now.

"I must prepare for the other tasks I have today," Gul'dan said, cleaning his tools while the apprentices carried the spears away with even more reverence now that they were finished. "I hope you have found this useful."

"Very much so, master Gul'dan," replied Keli'dan, glancing at his friend. "If you are not opposed to it, perhaps we could do something similar at a later time?"

Gul'dan looked from Keli'dan to Teron'gor. How odd. The words were very formal and respectful, but as far as he could tell, despite his cautiousness during the whole thing, there seemed to be a genuine desire to spend time together again as a group. Although that was what Gul'dan had planned all along, it was still... surprising, somehow.

"Yes, of course," he said, hoping his nod didn't look too much like his more formal gestures. Or too eager, for that matter.

Even Teron'gor allowed himself an open smile as they began to make their way out of the armoury. "Excellent! Perhaps tomorrow?"

Gul'dan blinked. "Perhaps..."

"Oh, you must be in a hurry! We will not keep you from your duties," Keli'dan said quickly with a polite bow. "Until tomorrow, master Gul'dan!"

"...until tomorrow." Gul'dan waited a moment, waiting for the two to leave first. Despite his fears and doubts, there was a strange lightness, a kind of hope in his heart as he turned to walk back to his hut.

It was that easy? All this time it would have been that easy?

Although Gul'dan tried to tell himself not to hope for too much yet, he felt a joy that he hadn't known he had been waiting for all his life. He had taken the first step. He had been strong enough. Gul'dan immediately thought of Ner'zhul; he would be very happy to hear this, and Gul'dan couldn't wait for evening to come so they could speak again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to reread everything Teron Gorefiend has been in to write this chapter. Whew! Keli'dan has far less canon material, but his voice actor gave him a lot of character. I like them both and hope to do them justice when they're not evil.


End file.
